


Let’s Face the Music And Dance

by gigi42



Category: Glee
Genre: Community: kbl-reversebang, Fanart, Homophobic Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-11 04:51:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 69,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2054316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigi42/pseuds/gigi42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 1948, patent officer Blaine Anderson meets Kurt Hummel, the man of his dreams, in New York. Will he risk everything to help Kurt’s aspirations become a reality? Or will he let his co-worker’s professional jealousy and Kurt’s new found fortune derail their budding romance?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preface 1949

**Title** : Let’s Face The Music and Dance

**Artist:** [abritincanadatwo](http://abritincanadatwo.tumblr.com/)

**Author:** gigi42 ([gigisplanet](http://gigisplanet.tumblr.com/))

**Rating** (art/fic if different): G/NC-17

**Word count:** ~35,000/ ~70,000(in progress)

**Warnings:** The use of the YMCA in a setting that is contrary to its purpose, casual sex, homophobic slurs.

 

**Fic Summary** : In 1948, patent officer Blaine Anderson meets Kurt Hummel, the man of his dreams, in New York. Will he risk everything to help Kurt’s aspirations become a reality? Or will he let his co-worker’s professional jealousy and Kurt’s new found fortune derail their budding romance?

**Link to Art:**[Check it out](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/92967313940/lets-face-the-music-and-dance) and here’s the [cover art](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/92967726840/lets-face-the-music-and-dance-a-kbl-fanfic-by)

**Link to Fic:** Read on AO3

**Art thumbnail:**

   

**Author’s notes:** This WIP story has been written for the Kurt/Blaine Reversebang 2014. The background behind the title – it’s a title to a [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c08wiEyVuak) from the 1936 movie, Follow the Fleet, sung by Fred Astaire (to Ginger Rogers’ character). My thanks to [manningstar](http://manningstar.tumblr.com/) for helping out on beta duty – without her input this story wouldn’t be as cohesive as it is. I’m also extremely grateful to have been able to work with [abritincanadatwo](http://abritincanadatwo.tumblr.com/), who has been nothing but supportive. Without her original piece of art, this story would never have been told. Many thanks to [thetimesinbetween](http://thetimesinbetween.tumblr.com/) also, who helped source queer culture articles from the 1940s and took some pretty awesome reference photos for me. I owe these lovely people a debt of gratitude. Also a quick shout out to Glee for putting some perfectly placed references to the late 1940s – some of which you may recognize as you read.

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Prologue_

_1949_

 

Warmth from April’s spring sunshine lightened Blaine Anderson’s steps as he strolled to work along Fifth Avenue. The hustle and bustle of a busy Friday morning was apparent. Several passing cars honked as one of the fellows Blaine recognized from the first floor zigzagged through traffic to cross the street. The twenty four year old tipped his hat to his associate but kept silent, not yet wanting to forgo the delightful feeling of his lips still buzzing from his lover's last kiss. Blaine had little doubt that his partner in crime was exactly where he’d left him earlier that morning – in bed, exhausted from their late night together. Oh how he longed to turn tail and race back to the Upper East Side but duty called, even if that meant putting in his hours at the patent office for another day.

A balmy breeze ruffled his unbuttoned pea coat and momentarily threatened to displace his fedora as Blaine arrived at the steps of the grand Public Library and, as he started to ascend, he wondered if Kurt would appear with another surprise picnic for lunch today. He smiled at the idea and broke into a merry whistle as he loped up the steps towards the entrance.

“Blaine Anderson?” A stern voice rang out just as Blaine reached the revolving front doors of the library. He twisted around to see who had called to him and, from the right, a curly haired man in a light trench coat broke away from a small group of men dressed in long blue coats and walked toward him with purpose. “Blaine Anderson?” he called out again, warily.

“Can I help you?”  Blaine replied genially.

“Blaine Anderson, you’re under arrest.”

* * *

 

 


	2. Chapter 1  1947

  _Chapter 1_

 

_1947_

 

Kurt Hummel awoke on the morning after Christmas to the sound of crumpling metal and angry shouting from the streets below that permeated through his small fourth floor apartment several blocks away from the Queensboro Bridge. The twenty one year old brunet pulled on his robe and checked through the curtain to find a thick blanket of snow covering everything outside.

Fat flakes fell steadily in the eerie windless calm outside while the radio [played](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/84886382375) and Kurt fixed himself a leisurely breakfast, thankful that his shift at Rockefeller University’s telephone exchange started at a decent hour.  His childhood home of Lima, Ohio never seemed so far away as it did during the holidays. Kurt missed his father and the rowdy Christmas dinner with the staff and their families at Hummel’s Tire and Lube. He certainly didn’t miss the stuffy Midwestern switchboard room with its long hours and crummy pay that he’d left behind almost a year ago.

Swallowing the last bittersweet mouthful of his morning coffee, Kurt adjusted an amber tie beneath his sweater and shrugged on a navy blue suit jacket. Although it pained him, he dressed for warmth over style, buttoning up his military style coat before donning a scarf and gloves. The Christmas gift from his father, a new stylish homburg hat, was the final touch. A last glance in the mirror confirmed that sending newspaper clippings of the latest styles to his father in their regular letters had been a terrific idea.

The chill washed over Kurt when he stepped out onto the sidewalk. He barely managed to skirt around a deep pile of powder as he crossed the road but still sank into three inches of fresh snow. With a grimace, he shook his chilled foot and headed for the bus stop. Quickly deciding it would be worth the nickel fare to get to work with his feet dry, Kurt wondered if the weather report was close to being accurate about getting only occasional flurries today.

* * *

 

What should’ve been an hour’s journey uptown had become a prolonged trek into whiteout conditions.

Kurt’s bus lurched and skidded along the street, the occupants of the crowded midtown bus gasping and groaning as a new chorus of horns honked in their direction. A toddler at the front of the bus screamed loudly and continued crying as a harried mother tried to settle them down unsuccessfully.

Kurt ground his teeth and wiped the fog from the bus window with his sleeve trying to spot a landmark through the heavy snowfall. Beside him, pressed close, a large woman in a saturated green overcoat grumbled monotonously about how late the service was.

When they finally made it past the Queensboro Bridge’s turnoff, Kurt didn’t bother to look at his watch. He’d already been on this sweaty, stressful ride long enough to know that he was at least two hours late for his shift. If it wasn’t for the ankle deep snow outside, Kurt would’ve already have abandoned his seat to take his chances on foot, but having sat through what should have been the worst part of the journey he was sure that the final five blocks would pass quickly.

He was wrong.

“You’re late, Hummel!” Kurt’s handsome supervisor, Brody Weston, snapped irritably.

“I know!” Kurt griped back and unwound his scarf. “The snow...It’s a nightmare,” he trailed off in exasperation. “I’ve been on a bus for the better part of _three_ godforsaken hours, Brody. Three hours!”

“You’re not the only one,” Brody admitted grumpily. “I’ve got half a dozen operators not coming in, and the lines are overloading, just… Just get to the cord-board, Kurt. I’ll get another pot of coffee on. You’re gonna be here for a while.”  Kurt nodded and hung up his coat.

Three hours to drive ten blocks? That’s got to be some kind of a record.

He headed off to his chair and toed off his damp shoes. Wiggling his toes in wet socks, he slipped on the headset and answered his first call of the day, sliding the billing card under the stamp. Kurt figured he’d make a call to his father’s shop when things calmed down, if they ever did.

Kurt’s lucky break came an hour later. Quinn Fabray, the pretty blonde part-time operator stationed next to him, winked and took over the incoming transfer to allow Kurt to make a quick long distance call to his father.

“There’s hardly any snow in the forecast. You sure about this, Kurt?”

“Dad, I spent three hours on the bus this morning. Believe me, there’s a whole lotta snow coming your way. I’m surprised it’s not there already. They’re saying it’s gonna be a record – worst storm since 1888.” Burt Hummel sucked in a breath over the crackling line.

“I’m okay, dad. It’s...There’s snow. A _lot_ of snow. But I’m alright. There’s no wind so nothing’s falling down. You know, trees and- and-” His father cut Kurt’s rambling off with a succinct plea.

“Just take care of yourself, kiddo.” Kurt swallowed hard and nodded, thinking of his late mother’s passing during a winter storm when he was a child.

“I-I will, dad. You too.”

At the end of the half empty row of operator chairs, the perennially sweet brunette, Marley Rose, signalled him to wrap it up.

“I’ve gotta go. But, dad? Maybe you should check in on Mrs. Hudson. I was thinking about you both spending your Christmases alone. You should make sure she’s set for the storm.” Kurt held his breath until his middle aged father chuckled.

“G’on, get off the line, kid. I’m sure she’ll be fine. Don’t you go worrying about me with that big heart you’ve got there. You should see if you can’t get someone to share a piece of yours,” Burt said cheekily.

“Dad!” Kurt blustered out as his cheeks flushed a deep red.

“I love ya, kid. Don’t you forget it.”

“You too, dad. ‘Bye.” He pulled the cable from the switchboard to disconnect the call.

“You’re such a dear,” Marley smiled sweetly as she wandered down the row and patted his shoulder on her way past.

“Do you think he’ll check in on her?” Quinn asked, sliding her headset off, ready to take their break.

“I think so,” Kurt said with a nod. His father may not look like a quintessential gentleman to most but he was one of the classiest folks Kurt knew.

“Let’s go see if there’s any cocoa left,” Quinn said as a few of the other ladies returned to their posts. Kurt held out his crooked arm, allowing her to hook hers through as they strolled out of the call room. She giggled as they paced each other with ever increasing speed until they were practically racing each other down the hall to the cafeteria, and then crowed with victory as she made it to the doorway first, crossing the threshold with an arm raised high.

* * *

 

By the time Kurt’s shift was over in the early evening, news had trickled in that the subway entrances were blocked by snow drifts and that some passengers were stuck on railway platforms throughout the city as the trains had shut down until the storm passed.

After the morning’s hellish ride, Kurt knew that taking another bus, if there were any still running, would feel like he was taking his life into his hands. Which is why when Brody offered him and Quinn a lift home in his car fully equipped with tire chains, they both gratefully accepted. However, after he and Brody spent the better part of an hour getting the wheels clear and the chains on, then readjusting them every other block, Kurt wasn’t so sure he’d made the right choice.

Street lights lit the road ahead, showing it to be swamped with snow drifts to the sides and littered with abandoned cars and a bus or two. But Brody finally managed to get on to 2nd Avenue, albeit cursing like a sailor while they slid across the slick road and careened a little too close to a large car-shaped snow drift for Kurt’s liking. He gripped the dash tightly as Quinn’s nails dug into his arm through his coat sleeve.

“How many blocks?” Brody said through gritted teeth as the car skidded around another abandoned car.

“From here? Eight,” Kurt confirmed bleakly. Suddenly they all shouted in alarm when the car bounced through an unexpected pothole.

“Everyone okay?” Brody asked while Quinn held her hat to her head with one hand and smoothed her dress down with the other.

“We should’ve stayed at work,” she groaned. “It’s not too late to turn around.”

“Let’s just make the best of it, shall we?” Brody replied grimly and then sighed audibly as clanking from the rear tire got louder. “Damn! Need to tighten that chain again.” He slowed down and pulled over as far as he could without getting them stuck in deeper snow.

“I’ll go,” Kurt offered, pulling his gloves tight. Several minutes later, fingers numb and new bruises on both his knee and knuckles, he clambered back into the auto. During the remainder of their journey, he and their determined driver split the duties of re-tightening the chains around the tires amidst the largest snowflakes they’d ever seen fall. By the time Brody had gotten them as far as East 56th Street, Kurt had wished them luck and asked to be let out.

“You’re mad,” Quinn stated unequivocally.

“I think I’ll have better success on foot. The plow hasn’t been through the side street,” Kurt replied, nodding down the darker street. “At least this way you’ll get home rather than getting stuck out here. Besides, it’s only half a block. Thanks again for the ride, Brody,” he said and bid them farewell. He watched them drive off, and then started the slog through knee deep snow to his building.

After finally arriving home, exhausted and soaked, Kurt ran a hot bath and folded his long legs into his small tub. With his knees jutting out of the water, he dozed in the steaming water and wearily thought of tire chains and zippers until he was startled by a revelation that made him sit bolt upright as water splashed around him.

Two hours and a bowl of Campbell’s consommé soup later, he’d mapped his idea out on paper; a new way of tightening a regular tire chain – one that would be quick and easy to do in the cold _and_ would save his knuckles in the process – if it worked, of course. Kurt climbed into bed still mulling over ways of making and marketing a new tire chain to sell in his father’s shop, but soon slipped off to sleep.

* * *

 

New Year’s Eve revelers crowded 3rd Street as Kurt hurried along the still snowy pavement. Knowing that his father wouldn’t receive the missive he was about to mail for another week or so didn’t dent his good mood. He dropped the thick envelope with all the details and drawings of his grand idea into the blue post box and blushed as a fetching young man in a paper hat blew a raucous party favor in his direction. [Music](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/88747753660) spilled out from a storefront across the street making Kurt smile fondly at the increasingly celebratory atmosphere while overhead the train rumbled on the raised tracks, no doubt taking crowds closer to Times Square to watch the ball drop a little later.

Kurt had learnt his lesson after last year, his first in the city, that the streets along Broadway would be crowded beyond belief, and he had no desire to repeat his previous adventure as an unwilling sardine jammed in a concrete tin with thousands of others. Instead he set off towards the tune still playing into the brisk night air, knowing it was from the shindig he was due at, being hosted by his young but connected friend, Chandler.

It was another lesson he’d picked up on quickly after his arrival – finding a community that would not only accept him but embrace him as he was. It was not something he’d ever experienced in Ohio, at least outside of his father and the tire shop, and until Kurt had seen other men living such lifestyles, he had not understood how much that acceptance had meant to him.

He was still learning though; still searching for like minded individuals to befriend and still hoping and wishing for love. However, many of his new friends were content to flit from one dalliance to another whereas Kurt felt that he couldn’t possibly be content getting his rocks off with veritable strangers. It was why kissing was the limit he’d imposed upon himself. Kurt wanted it all; love and romance. He wanted someone to hold hands and laugh with, to smooch and to dance with. He wanted to fall in love and he figured that it may be too tall an order to fill but, still, he was hopeful.

Kurt wandered through the open door and took off his coat as the cry of welcome went up from the roomful of merrymakers. As Chandler wove through the throng to greet him, Kurt’s gaze flittered over the men already mingling and wondered if there was someone here tonight who would be everything he was looking for, or if not, would at least be good for a kiss or two at midnight. Kurt’s musings were soon interrupted by his cheery host who hugged him and immediately started chattering as he led him by the arm to introduce him to several eager looking sailors standing nearby.

* * *

 

A party atmosphere buzzed around the grand hall of the Paramount Theatre.  Hordes of New Year’s Eve revelers crowded outside in Times Square and waited for the countdown to midnight. Standing off to the side and keeping a white marble column company, Blaine Anderson had never felt so much like a fish out of water. Sure his slicked down black hair and tuxedo helped him fit into the babbling crowd of partygoers, but his appetite for small talk with flirty starlets and aging socialites had waned as the evening had progressed. However, with less than an hour until midnight, escape was out of the question until the ball dropped and 1948 was christened.

At least Blaine was in the midst of truly sumptuous surroundings. The magnificent crystal chandelier twinkled above red carpeted stairs in the building’s gallery and sumptuous swathes of red velvet hung between the marble columns that towered towards the ceilings covered in gilded frescos. Blaine clutched his empty Martini glass and closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating on the [soothing strains of the orchestra as they accompanied Margaret Whiting](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/88748019195/what-are-you-doing-new-years-eve-margaret) until he was rudely interrupted.

“You know, you look like you could use a drink, handsome,” a husky female voice breathed into his ear as she clutched his arm and stumbled against him.

Blaine’s eyes snapped open in alarm. He scrunched his face with distaste as the middle aged woman with long curled blonde hair stood on his foot and slipped her hand beneath the back of his dinner jacket. Sensing he could make a run for it under cover of getting a refill, Blaine cleared his throat quickly and asked if she’d like one also.

“Mmm, a Between The Sheets, darling, and, if you play your cards right, that’s where you can have me later,” the stranger purred at him while her roaming hand shifted away only to slap his rear unexpectedly.

Blaine gawped at her, mouth moving but at a complete loss for words. Something about this deranged woman was familiar but he just couldn’t put his finger on where he knew her from. His peaked eyebrows furrowed as he tried to place her but was distracted when she laughed in his face and clung onto him stubbornly.

“Cassie, honey, leave the poor boy alone,” Patricia scolded as she swept in to separate them. Blaine breathed a sigh of relief and thanked his lucky stars that his sister-in-law wasn’t someone to be trifled with, especially with her long dark hair pulled back and piled up to make her look even more formidable. Although her bright blue eyes flashed shrewdly as she took her friend’s hand and led her away, Blaine knew she wasn’t truly angry. Patricia may be well known for her roles in B grade movies as the conniving and volatile vamp, but off screen she’d turned out to be nothing short of the nicest person Blaine had ever met.

“Cooper?” Patricia called to Blaine’s older brother, who also happened to be her handsome husband, trying to free him from a nearby clutch of cooing younger ladies. “Why don’t you impress Miss July with your dance moves?”

“Anything for you, Pat. Anything,” Cooper replied smoothly, dropping a kiss to her waiting cheek and a wink in Blaine’s direction.

“Shall we?” Cooper asked, offering his arm to Cassie with a dramatic flourish as the band started up a with a Charlie Parker tune.

“We shall but will you be able to keep up?” Cassie teased as he led her away, clearing an area on the makeshift dance floor, so others could watch their little performance.

Blaine snapped his fingers in triumph. “Cassandra July! I should’ve known!” Beside him, Patricia chuckled and slipped her arm into the crook of his while leading them towards the bar.

“Indeed she is, Squirt, so be nice. Once a Follie, always a Follie.”

“Oh, not you too!” Blaine protested. He’d hated that pet name since childhood but up until now only his older brother insisted on continuing with the dig at his slight stature. If wasn’t as if Blaine was short. He was perfectly comfortable as he was. It just so happened that Cooper had lucked out in height department, and as was often the way with older brothers, he never let Blaine forget it.

Patricia squeezed his arm in apology but stopped them short of their destination when the first cat calls started from the dance floor. There, hamming it up next to the retired professional dancer was his older brother grinning like the sun. The gathering crowd clapped in time with the music, hooting with glee when Cooper started in on Cossack-like dance moves. If there was one thing that could be counted on, it was that Cooper was always the center of attention.

Patricia laughed and applauded her husband’s antics as Blaine rolled his eyes and collected fresh drinks for them both.

“Do you know why I love your brother, Blaine?” Patricia asked when he returned to her side. He shook his head, clueless as to why the stunning brunette actress bothered with him at all. “He makes me laugh,” she said simply, shrugging her shoulders at Blaine. “He always has my best interests at heart and he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about being too over the top.”

“Oh, well that’s uh…mmm, swell?” Blaine said with his eyebrows sky high, hoping not to offend. Being the life of the party was never his strong suit. Oh, he could do it, there was no question. He had sung many times at home to entertain his family and his father’s musician friends but he preferred a book to the spotlight. There had been inevitable comparisons between him and his brother. They were both talented, but Blaine had focused on his education and finding a nine-to-five job whereas Cooper had been the one to follow their father into the world of show business. Blaine couldn’t blame him; the bright lights and applause were a soothing balm to a lonely soul. But it was a risk. One that meant you couldn’t guarantee where your next meal would come from or that you could keep a roof over your head. It was a risk Blaine wasn’t willing to take. 

After their family had packed up their dismal life in Ohio during the Great Depression and headed to New York City for a fresh start, a skinny fifteen year old Cooper hadn’t bothered to finish his schooling. Instead he’d fought hard for odd jobs in the clubs whenever their father could land a gig playing piano. Blaine, however, had been an inquisitive but sickly nine year old when they’d finally got to the city. They’d grown up in Battery Park, and Blaine, after watching their mother struggle as a scrub woman day in and day out to feed them all through those lean years, was bound and determined to make a better life for them all one day.

Thankfully things had turned out better than he could have hoped for once the hardships of those hard times passed. The advent of swing music exploding in the city had resulted in his father being booked solid almost every night, and Blaine made sure that his parents were sticking to the savings plan he’d devised for them once Cooper left to complete combat service training in Virginia.

Once the war was over, Cooper’s continuing knack for being in the right place at the right time led him to the theatre. He managed to charm his way into various musical productions, only to find himself sleeping on their parent’s couch when the shows folded a week or two later. Much to Blaine’s amusement, his older brother was always at the center of drama and excitement as he flitted from test shows in Philadelphia to off-Broadway and back again. Cooper’s escapades were almost always a pleasant distraction while Blaine worked himself through an engineering degree at Columbia. Unless he was studying for finals. Then Cooper’s antics would only earn disdain and, more often than not, require Blaine to give up his hard-earned savings for bail money.

After his graduation, which followed on the heels of the end of the war, Blaine’s greatest dilemma hadn’t been whether or not to follow Cooper to California in search of a lucrative studio deal and celluloid stardom, or a girl as it turned out, but whether to be recruited by one of the large companies vying for his attention or to study for the patent bar exam.

“You should go with a private company, for sure,” Cooper had told him. “Just think, Blainey, you could be famous in no time flat with your name plastered all over a new invention.”

“It won’t be that glamorous. I’m more likely to be stuck in a lab and seeing the same five faces every day for the next twenty years. At least if I became a patent agent, I’d meet new people every single day, and see new ideas, new ways of thinking. I’d get to help people, Coop, help make their dreams come true. I could help people change their lives,” he’d said passionately, realizing that he had, in fact, already made his decision.

“The bar? So you’ll be a lawyer?”

“Nope. The patent bar focuses on technical knowhow, not your legal knowledge. I can still go and work for a company afterwards as an agent but, really, I want a shot at working at the USPTO. I think that’s where I can make the biggest difference in people’s lives.” Blaine neglected to mention the soft spot he had in his heart for libraries, those hushed halls that kept him warm, safe and out of trouble in his youth.

“Wow, Squirt. You sound like me,” Cooper had said with a proud grin.

“Uh, yeah. Only I’m not going into this business to get ‘paid and laid’.”

“Oh Blainey, how you wound me. Besides, you’re forgetting that I’m in it for the glory too,” Cooper had said with a wink.

Fortune smiled on Blaine later that year after he started at the library in Albany to do his agent training. He’d returned from his brother’s wedding to find that his transfer application had been approved and his move back to New York City had been fast tracked. Before Blaine knew it, the reality of walking into one of the grande dames of Fifth Avenue, the New York Public Library, was one he cherished every single day. Only the Museum of Metropolitan Art could rival her beauty in Blaine’s eyes, but for him, it was the library that was a truly majestic place to be and he felt honored to work there.

As it turned out, his older brother had been every bit as hardworking and tenacious as Blaine, only in different circles. In recent years, Cooper had scored numerous bit parts in movies, regularly rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous along with Patricia.

Blaine had no regrets though. He was thrilled with his steady paying job, and being able to meet a multitude of people who were just as interesting as the ideas they had to patent. Job security was much more alluring than the glitz and glam of the music or theatre scene and, in his hearts of hearts, he knew that the city of New York with its new ideas and attitudes was endlessly more fascinating than Hollywood could ever be. His short stay in Albany aside, Blaine never intended to live anywhere other than New York City. It had everything he could ever desire - he was sure of it. Maybe one of these days, he’d even find the perfect man here.

* * *

 


	3. Chapter 2  1948

_Chapter 2_

 

_1948_

 

On a cold and gloomy mid-January morning, Kurt made the call to his father’s shop in Ohio. While he waited for the Lima operator to answer his call, his nails rapped against the wooden table top in a nervous rhythm. He was counting on his dad to give him an honest answer about the feasibility of the device. If it could work, it had the potential to change everything for them both.

“Long distance. What number please?” The clipped voice of the female operator came over the line.

“CA 8-633 please,” he replied pleasantly.

“Connecting you now, please hold.” Kurt jiggled his leg impatiently while he waited for someone at the workshop to answer the phone.

“Hummel’s Tire and Lube. What can I do you for?”

“Dad!”

“Hey, how are ya, kid?” Burt replied warmly.

Kurt laughed. “That all depends. Are you gonna give me some bad news?”

“Are you kidding? I think you got a winner there, Kurt.”

“Are you sure? Does it look alright?” The bubbling sensation in Kurt’s stomach increased.

“Look alright? Well, heck. I made a pair – well, a rough version anyway. There’s some fine tuning that needs to be done on the measurements of the teeth but it’s a hell of a time saver,” Burt said enthusiastically.

“What? Oh my word!”

“I put them on my truck. Best way to test the theory is by putting it into practice.” Kurt laughed gleefully. “Listen, Kurt, we’re jammed this morning so I’ve got to go but I’ll send you some notes with the changes I was talking about. You should find yourself a lawyer – that’s what you gotta do if you’re gonna patent this thing.”

“Patent? I just thought we could get some made and you could sell them in the shop.”

“Yeah, sure. But this is a new design, kiddo. You need to get your name on it so you get the credit for the idea.” Kurt’s mind swirled with the idea of having his name on something he designed while his father spoke to someone in the background.

“I’ve gotta go, Kurt. Everything okay with you? You’re alright?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good, good.” His dad muffled the receiver for a moment as something clanged loudly in the workshop. “I’ll be sure to put it in tomorrow’s post. Be good, kid.”

“Yeah, you too, dad,” Kurt replied distractedly, already wondering about a patent lawyer. Where would he find one of those?

* * *

 

“Washington D.C,” Quinn told him as Kurt leaned over her librarian’s desk at Rockefeller University. The slim twenty four year old blonde pulled out a brass letter opener from her top drawer and handed it over to him. “This guy comes up here, handing these [things](http://www.bullworks.net/daily/20090920.htm) out left and right.”

“Clarence A. O’Brien, registered patent attorney, Washington D.C.” Kurt read off until Quinn turned over the item in his hands and tapped the other side of it. “Oh!” he exclaimed as he saw that there were instructions as well. “First step in patent matter - send me sketch or model and fifteen dollars to cover search and report on patentability. First step in trade mark matter – send me sample or sketch of mark and fifteen dollars for search and report on registrability. My booklet on patent and trade mark procedure sent free on request,” Kurt read aloud. “ _Fifteen_ _dollars!"_  he complained loudly then glanced around the library quickly and slapped a hand over his mouth. “That’s half my savings! And he thinks I’m just going to post that away?” Kurt whispered furiously. “I’d have to pay to get to Washington _and_ give him fifteen whole dollars,” he grumbled to himself. “Do you know how many new hats I could get for that amount of money?” Kurt groused to his friend.

Quinn hid her smile behind her hand. “Calm down, Kurt. Didn’t I just say that he came up here all the time? He’s a regular visitor to the University and to Cornell Medical down the road. Someone’s always trying to patent some compound or ‘other,” she said, waving her fingers dismissively. Kurt’s hand clenched into a fist and flew to his mouth in quiet excitement, his eyes wide as she continued. “I _could_ just find out when he’ll be here next. I’m sure I can sweet talk one of the boys into letting a detail or two slip.” Quinn batted her eyelashes at Kurt playfully.

“I _have_ to meet that man,” Kurt stated categorically as he put the letter opener down and grasped both her hands. “What do I have to do to make that happen?” She considered his offer with an exaggerated smirk.

“Get us tickets to the new show at the Adelphi?”

“For who? You and me?”

“Yes, silly. Who else do I trust to show me a good time at the theatre?”

“I thought that Brody might-”

Quinn laughed. “Oh! No! He’s married, Kurt,” she scoffed.

“That’s quite the favor,” Kurt mused out loud. Broadway show tickets, at two and a half bucks a pop, were not something he could afford to splash out on often.

“Yes, dear, but I am saving you the cost of a return trip to D.C. Besides, think of all the outfits we’ll be able to critique while we’re there.”

“I’ll see what I can do, but you, little lamb, back to work!” Kurt joked as a student placed a stack of books on the counter and cleared his throat.

* * *

 

Tiny flakes of fresh February snow spiralled behind Kurt’s flapping coat tails as he hurried across the cork floor of the university library’s reading room.

“Mr. O’Brien?” Kurt asked as he poked his head around a small study room’s heavy wooden door.

“Mr. Hummel, I presume. Come in, come in,” a balding middle aged man replied, standing to shake Kurt’s hand. “I’m Harvey Jacobson, Clarence’s business partner. Please, take a seat,” he said waving to an empty chair across from him. “Young Quinn tells me you’ve had an idea you’d like to explore?”

“Yes, I- I think I’ve got a new way of fastening tire chains,” Kurt started and shed his heavy overcoat. “Is that something that you can patent?”

“Mechanical patents, design patents, as well as compounds and compositions – we take care of them all. Why don’t you lay it out for me and we’ll go through everything,” Mr. Jacobson said. With a smile, Kurt pulled out several new drawings he’d made based on his idea and his father’s notes, then started to explain how it all worked.

After listening intently and making notes, Mr. Jacobson nodded sagely. “Sounds like a capital idea, Mr. Hummel. I’m going to have you complete this Record of Invention form in triplicate which I’ll take back with me, along with your check for fifteen dollars. You have that don’t you?” Kurt nodded readily and pulled out his check book. “Good, good. I’ll leave you with our Patent Guide booklet which should answer any questions you may have while we research the validity of your claim. We’ll be in touch once we’re satisfied that a claim can be made without challenge.”

“Does that need to be completed in D.C. as well?” Kurt asked curiously.

“No, no. There are several Patent Offices in the state of New York. Why, there’s one right in Midtown at the public library.”

Happy to avoid a costly trip, Kurt quickly flipped through the forty-eight page guide feeling satisfied with his decision to take action while the attorney checked over his completed form.

“Everything looks to be in order, Mr. Hummel. Here’s your carbon copy. We’ll be in touch just as soon as we’ve completed the search for similar patents and pending claims.”

“Will that take long?” Kurt asked.

“A few months no doubt, depending on the number of similar claims. Not to worry, Mr. Hummel. We’ll take of it all. If you need anything, just give our office a call,” Mr. Jacobson added as he scrawled the office phone number on the back of the booklet and handed it back to Kurt with a smile.

* * *

 

Valentine’s Day was Blaine’s favorite holiday. He was a hopeless romantic. Hopeless being the operative word, and _that_ seemed to be especially so as he strolled toward a Saturday matinee show about an awkward ballerina where he was to meet his brother. However, his good mood would not be derailed by the decidedly unromantic outing today. [Humming to himself](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/91200609350/cole-porter-lets-do-it), Blaine playfully dodged one icy puddle after another, wondering if, by chance, the future love of his life would somehow be in today’s audience and if maybe, _just maybe_ , they’d meet unexpectedly and thereby prove that all his fantastical ideas about fate and soulmates were, in actual fact, completely justified. He grinned at the countless possibilities that could bring him face to face with the man he was destined to love. Yes, today could be the day. The fact he’d felt exactly the same on practically every Valentine’s Day didn’t deter him because, if one thing held true, it was that Blaine Anderson was an optimist of the highest order.

“Let’s do it,” he burbled to himself, jogging across the street to the Adelphi Theatre where his much taller brother was leaning up against the building looking casually confident and nodding to a trio of giggling women.

“Hey Squirt! How’ya been?” Cooper said and reached out to grab at Blaine’s hat and ruffle the dark, carefully styled hair, but Blaine dodged him, dancing away quickly.

“You snooze, you lose,” Blaine teased as he pulled his scarf free to show off his red candy striped bow tie. He’d had worn it especially for the day. It was as close to celebratory as he could get without having little hearts all over it, not exactly appropriate for a matinee show with family.

“Still slicking that mop down with Brylcreem, Squirt?” Cooper asked, unbuttoning his overcoat as they headed inside. Blaine simply rolled his eyes at the jibe. His relationship with the pomade was almost as old as he was, and his brother knew it. Instead of falling for the bait, he asked after Cooper’s wife.

“How’s Pat? I’m surprised you could get out of the house today,” Blaine joked, knowing that they were hosting a Valentine’s party later that night before leaving for California again.

“Are you kidding? She was glad to see the back of me for the afternoon – kept telling me off for taste testing the appetizers.” Cooper produced their tickets from his inside pocket and handed them to the usherette.

“Coop, you didn’t have to spring for tickets,” Blaine protested. “I could’ve managed.”

“I know, I know. Think of it as my apology for not snagging you an invite to tonight’s shindig. It’s just the big wigs and execs tonight, and their wives,” he paused and then added, “and their mistresses.” The suave thirty year old shook his head at the ridiculousness of the situation. “Maybe Pat’s right not to worry about the politics of it all, but I can’t help wanting to do more with my time than glad handing the studio execs.”

“But Coop, I heard you on the radio on Thursday,” Blaine remarked. “Sounds like you’re doing plenty.”

“Guest spots on Hit Parade aren’t gonna cut it, Blainey.” They took their seats and waited for the lights to come down.

“But Patty’s filming again…”

“Pat’s shooting the Return of Wildfire and I may have a little more work coming up in The Pirate – they’re reshooting the finale,” Cooper whispered confidentially. “But that’s it for the time being. I’ve been trying to get onto Hit Parade as a regular but the main slots are full,” his brother complained as Blaine frowned in concern. “Oh, it’s not the money so much, Squirt. There’s plenty of it in the bank. I just can’t stand sitting around and twiddling my thumbs. I like to work, you know that, but since I chased Pat clear across the country to get her to marry me, I haven’t been able to find a steady gig.”

“I’m sure something will turn up,” Blaine reassured his big brother. “You just need to keep at it.”

As the lights went down in the theatre and the crowd hushed expectantly, Cooper whispered, “I’m excited to see what Hugh Martin came up with for the score of this show. He coached me once, you know, in DuBarry at the Royale.”

Blaine nodded, slightly amused at his brother’s tenacity for name dropping even though he quite clearly remembered attending that show before the war.

“I’m looking forward to the ballet troupe. There’s nothing better than a man in tights,” Blaine whispered back. “That way you can see exactly what you’re getting yourself into,” he joked to make his older brother snicker quietly as the curtain opened.

* * *

 

“ _I’m the first girl in the second row in the third scene of the fourth number in fifth position at ten o’clock on the nose_ ,” Quinn sang lightly as she darted out onto the street still bathed in late evening sunlight. She hummed a few more bars of the comedic number from the matinee of [Look Ma, I’m Dancin’](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/91200675785/nancy-walker-im-the-first-girl-from-look-ma) as Kurt caught up to her.

“ _And I played the thorn in the Specter of the Rose_ ,” he sung alongside her, putting the back of his hand to his forehead to ham it up. Quinn giggled and clutched at his arm as they attracted onlookers from the emptying theatre.

“I adore Nancy Walker. She’s hilarious. Even more so as an oddball ballerina,” the blonde mused as they walked arm in arm over to the subway station at 53rd Street. “Thank you, Kurt.”

“I should be thanking you. The attorney has everything in hand now.”

“You can thank me when you’re filthy rich and horribly famous.” Kurt laughed and patted his friend’s hand. “I’m not foolin’,” Quinn warned. “You need to get wise, Kurt. You could be sitting on a goldmine. Just promise you’ll remember little ol’ me when you’re top of the heap.”

Kurt smiled at his friend, happy to humor her flight of fancy. He knew the possibility of this being _something_ was there, but what exactly, he didn’t know. He hoped it would be enough to repay his father’s generosity that had come in the form of a train ticket to New York.

“Say, come back with me,” Quinn suggested, stopping in the middle of the subway’s stairs to let the tide of couples enjoying their Valentine’s Day outings trickle past them. “There’s a great little joint in the Village where we can get a bite and listen to some jazz.” Music, it turned out, was the first of their common interests that the pair had discovered when Kurt had started at the exchange a year ago.

“Why not 52nd Street and save the trip? It’s got everything you could ever want – swing, jazz, crepe paper hearts aplenty,” Kurt suggested as Quinn wrinkled her nose.

“But they only have a one drink minimum at Condon’s, and if we get there early you’ll get extra cherries in your Shirley Temple.”

Kurt laughed heartily. “Well, why didn’t you say! That’s easily worth five cents!” he joked, as they headed down to the subway.

* * *

 

Four hours and a rousing set by Ralph Sutton later, Kurt saw Quinn to her door in Greenwich Village and then caught the late night elevated train from the Bowery. He was content to sit away from the two large groups of people that were still looking for a late night on the town. Kurt quickly tuned out their raucous chattering and concentrated on the clattering of the train over the rails while a checkerboard of dark and lighted apartments rushed past.

He tightened his scarf and adjusted his gloves as his stop approached, ready to disembark and walk the last few chilly blocks home. The train came to a screeching halt and Kurt, along with a group of five young men, walked out onto the [platform](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/91200807715/wehadfacesthen-new-york-1942-photo-by-marjory), high above the street.

He let them pass by, racing each other down the stairs with a whoop, and bit back a smile as they laughed when one of them tripped over his own feet. Kurt followed them at a distance, not paying too much attention while they called out good-naturedly to two men cuddling in an entryway, and then to another waiting in the shadows, before they rushed towards a pair of fellas they seemed to know.

Kurt glanced back to watch the newcomers greet the group excitedly as he passed them and completely missed the front door of Hotel Sutton bursting open ahead of him. The sudden proximity of a carefree husky-sounding chuckle caught his attention but Kurt’s head snapped back too late, and he walked smack into an unshaven man with jet black hair who was still shrugging on his coat. Kurt winced as his boot made contact with a shin.

“Shit!” The tall stranger cursed. He stumbled backward and his black top hat fell to the ground with a hollow thud.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” Kurt fussed, unsure of whether to offer to help.

“Kurt?” A confused but familiar voice uttered, making Kurt twirl around to see who had recognized him.

“Brody? Oh my word! Where-?” His manager looked just as flabbergasted as Kurt felt.  

“What are you-?” Brody cut himself off as he remembered. “Right, right. You live around here,” he mumbled to himself.

“You know this guy?” His taller brunet companion asked while dusting off his old top hat. Brody licked his lips quickly and glanced between them uncertainly.

“Yes, of course. Elliot, this is Kurt – a friend,” Brody reassured, “Kurt? This is my, uh… other friend, Elliot.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Elliot said sticking his hand out to shake and smiling broadly when Kurt took it.

“I really am sorry. My feet have a mind of their own. Are you okay?” Kurt asked.

“Ginger and peachy. Besides, any friend of Brody’s is a friend of mine,” he added with a flirty wink. “So are you two…?” Elliot asked, trailing off. Kurt looked at Brody, perplexed, just as his boss coughed unexpectedly.

“Ah, hah,” Brody added hurriedly with the shake of his head. “We work together.”

“Ohhh. You lucky stiff.” Elliot said with a wicked glint in his eye and jabbed Kurt in the ribs. “Don’t mind me; I need to be on my way,” he said to Kurt, seeing the confusion on his face. “It was _very_ nice meeting you,” Elliot said, clapping his hand on Brody’s shoulder and squeezing it affectionately.

Brody smiled at him fondly as Elliot stepped back and started to sing, “ _We'll meet again. Don't know where, don't know when. But I know we'll meet again, some sunny da-ay_.” He spun around with a flourish and took his leave, walking towards the station’s stairs and whistling the rest of the tune cheerfully.

Kurt stared after him, gob smacked. He hadn’t the gall to ask outright but he couldn’t hide his bewilderment over Elliot flirting so obviously with his married boss. Not to mention he had no idea what sort of business could be conducted at this time night, particularly in Hotel Sutton, which was not the most sophisticated of establishments.

“Well, he’s ... he’s _a lot_ ,” Kurt said decidedly, still reeling from the unexpected meeting. “Was he wearing tails? Did he just come from a wedding?”

“Huh? Oh. No. A party, I think,” Brody said as he scratched the back of his neck. “Listen, Kurt-”

“How outré,” Kurt huffed.

“Kurt, there’s something I should explain.” Brody checked further along the street for a canteen’s lit storefront and offered to buy Kurt a nightcap.

As his manager added two sugars to his cup of coffee and a new song [played on the jukebox](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/91200872835/aint-misbehavin-fats-waller-from-the-movie), Kurt watched him curiously and wondered exactly what Brody had to clarify. If it had been any other man he’d bumped into tonight, Kurt would think nothing more of it. Clandestine meetings under the Third Ave El were run of the mill around here so far as Kurt could tell, although he’d never tried it himself. But across from Kurt sat his boss, and as he warmed his fingers around his own cup, he couldn’t fathom why Brody would be in this part of town, at this time of night.

Brody cleared his throat expectantly. “You might be wondering why I’m out here tonight.” Kurt nodded, his inquisitiveness getting the better of him. “I’m not sure what you and the girls talk about at work but if it’s anything like the rest of the company, then no doubt you know that I’m married, and have been with Kitty for the better part of eight years,” he added. Kurt nodded in agreement but waited for the rest of the unsolicited explanation. “Before I tell you something about myself, something deeply personal and private, I want to be clear – no one else is to know what I’m about to tell you. Understand?” Kurt’s interest was piqued once more and he nodded again, more soberly this time, ready to accept the mantle of responsibility being offered to him. Brody glanced around the almost empty coffee shop and leaned over the table. “I don’t mean to offend, but you are _in the life_ , aren’t you?”

Kurt’s mouth dropped open in surprise. He picked up the spoon and stirred his drink as he thought how to respond to such a direct question. It wasn’t something that was asked, generally speaking. Even after being hit on once or twice when he’d lingered too long in front of a store’s window display, men never asked outright if he was homosexual.

He nodded with a small tilt of his head and hummed in concurrence.

“Good. Okay. Here goes,” Brody readied himself and stared into his cup as he spoke. “I picked Elliot up tonight. At the park. He _was_ simply coming home from a party but I- I-” He took a deep breath and sighed. “I spend quite a lot of time there, you see. Uh, cruising.” Brody glanced up to check in with Kurt and make sure he was being understood. Kurt sat there with wide eyes, unsure of what to say, but nodded for his manager to go on.

“Some nights I just need – no, I want to be with someone … else.” Brody paused as he struggled for words. “Don’t get me wrong. Kitty’s a great gal – a heck of a wife – she’s got a lot of spunk. I really am a lucky man.”

“Do you love her?” Kurt asked quietly, not sure that it was really the question he wanted to know the answer to.

“Of course! Yes. You must think I’m pretty callous,” Brody sighed. “Kurt, you- I suppose you only prefer to be with men,” he waited for Kurt’s agreement but Kurt had none to give. He had no experience other than two messy kisses on New Year’s Eve with a drunken sailor, which didn’t seem to be a fair measure. Other than that, he knew only what his heart told him when it raced if a man stared into his eyes for a little too long.

But Brody didn’t seem to notice Kurt’s internal struggle and carried on, “But _I_ enjoy being with both my wife _and_ with men like Elliot. Do you understand?”

Kurt shook his head uncertainly - the idea almost too strange to fathom. It was unheard of, wasn’t it? Or at least, Kurt had never known someone in that position. In Ohio, you were like everyone else or you were a fairy – destined to live a lonely, secretive and unhappy life. But here, in New York, Kurt had discovered so many men like himself, happy and sad, and young and old; men who loved men, and lived with men, but none that loved women _and_ men. It rattled him for a moment as he checked the empty tables around him and whispered, “Are you-? Forgive me, but are you saying that you’re intimate with your wife and with men?

Brody folded his hands together and answered without shame. “Yes.”

“And you’re attracted to both sexes?” Kurt squeaked out and his manager smiled easily.

“Always have been.”

“But …why marry if that’s the case?”

“I’m sorry?”

“If you knew you wanted both, why would you want to settle down? Why put your wife in this position?” Kurt shook his head in disbelief. It was one thing to have an affair, which he’d already considered indecent, but it was another to lead a double life.

“I- I love her,” Brody said simply. “From the moment we met,” he smiled as he reminisced. “Sure she was prickly and more than a little pious when we were younger but every time she laughed at my jokes and held my hand, I saw the real Kitty and fell a little more in love.” Brody took another swig of his coffee. “You have to understand, I didn’t go into my marriage thinking things would be like this. Neither of us did. The war changed things for us.”

“I don’t follow.” Kurt pushed his cup away, his coffee too cool to swallow.

“I wanted to be married before I left but she wouldn’t hear of it - didn’t want to be a widow before she was twenty. I asked her anyway, ring and all, but she still said no. Instead she wanted us to make a promise to one another – wherever we were, whoever we were with, that we would always come back to each other.” Brody finished the dregs from his cup, letting it clink loudly as it hit the saucer. “I was away for a long time, unable to send letters in the Pacific, and I found comfort in those years from a few of the guys I served with. And back home, Kitty got herself into some trouble with a girl so they came to the city to escape the gossip.” He laughed fondly. “It’s peculiar but we found each other again quite by accident. I’d barely gotten stateside, hadn’t even had the chance to call home, when we ran into each other and fell in love all over again and the wedding followed not long after.” Brody pursed his lips but continued, determined to see this through. “It’s complicated now, she has her friend to keep her company from time to time and I- well I find my own entertainment. But at the heart of it, we love each other, flaws and all, and want to be together. It’s just that we want to be with others of our own kind too.”

Kurt was stunned. An open marriage – that was one for the books.

Brody chuckled at Kurt’s bewildered expression. “We’re not the first to have a lavender marriage.” Kurt perked up at that. What did he mean? “Come on, you’ve heard all about Cole Porter and his wife, haven’t you?” Kurt shook his head. There had been rumors about the composer of course, and about some of the stars he’d consorted with in Hollywood, all of which had fascinated Kurt endlessly. But that life was a million miles away from him and he felt unqualified to speculate.

“Well, let me put it this way. I don’t know what his wife does, or does not take part in, but I have firsthand knowledge of Cole’s er, activities.”

“Really? How so?” 

“Have you ever been to the Y on 48th Street?” Kurt’s eyes fluttered as his face flushed. He most certainly had not but that hadn’t stopped Chandler, who worked the front desk there, from saying some downright scandalous things about the clientele during their weekly tête-à-tête.

“No? Why do you ask?”

“I think, Kurt my boy, I should give you a proper introduction to the locker room and perhaps you might find the kind of man you’re looking for.” Kurt’s eyebrows rose in surprise but Brody simply added, “There’s plenty of strapping men that give off the impression of being perfectly straight but who enjoy their time in the showers with young men like yourself, and, I dare say, there’d be a few who’d be delighted by such … an innocent.”

Kurt’s mouth dropped open in shock again. Was his virtue that obvious? He glanced around, thankful that the canteen was practically empty as his face burned with embarrassment.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” Brody assured him. “Just like mine is to be with you,” he reminded Kurt.

Kurt nodded absentmindedly, agreeing to remain tight lipped over the whole thing. Of course that didn’t stop him from daydreaming as he bid his boss a good night and wandered the rest of the way home in a daze. Fantasy flashes of bare bronzed skin, dripping with water, and a man toweling himself off. The towel dropping to leave the man bare, hands taking Kurt’s and putting them on the stranger’s warm skin. The visions taunted Kurt, showing him something he’d never had. The temptation of Brody’s final offer to accompany him and show him around the establishment replayed in his head over and over. Would he be so bold as to go along?

* * *

 

Smoke curled through the dim light of the small club, and Blaine’s dance partner pulled him close as the song on the jukebox [changed to a slower tune](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/91200934835/tiddlywinksandapplesauce-freddy-martin-his). The Valentine’s Day streamers above the bar were lit up with a warm haze of light and Blaine’s hope that he wouldn’t spend the night alone after all was renewed.

He laid his cheek against his new friend’s shoulder and let the flush of pleasure overtake him as their bodies pressed against each other during their slow two step. Humming softly, Blaine breathed in the sharp cologne of the taller blonde man who had bought him a drink earlier. It wasn’t perfect, he knew, but it was enough for tonight. The sting Cupid’s of arrow had inundated downtown with would-be lovers desperately looking for a connection, sending them into arms of people they barely knew and Blaine was willing to take his chance with this man, for one night at least.

He’d seen Jerry around a few times. The curly haired blond was only a few years his senior but he was usually with younger men, boys really, but the crisp cold night air had ushered Jerry towards Blaine with an easy smile and a beer. They’d talked about sports at the crowded bar until Blaine had offered his arm and an invitation to share the busy dance floor and they quickly carved out a spot amongst the other queers who were making the most of the body contact that moving to the music offered them. Jerry quickly dropped Blaine’s hand and slipped an arm around his waist, tugging him closer so Blaine could feel the hard-on pressing against his belly while they rocked together.

“Do you have a place?” Jerry whispered into his ear as a hand slid beneath Blaine’s jacket and down the back of his waistband. “We can’t use mine tonight.”

Blaine moaned as his ass cheek was gripped purposefully. “Yes.” His breathing hitched with the kneading and squeeze of Jerry’s hand and when his head fell back to gulp in air, Blaine found his companion watching him carefully with pale blue-grey eyes as a finger slid in between his cheeks. “We should-” he gasped out as the finger pressed against his entrance. “Let’s go.”

 _“Tonight we love in the glow, that glows so softly I know, this wasn’t meant to borrow but tomorrow, will it be gone, or will it always live on,_ ” Blaine sang quietly, his head resting against the taxi’s back seat, as he watched Jerry look steadfastly out the window at the dark city streets rushing by.

Blaine held his building’s door open while Jerry paid the driver. His companion waited until they were through Blaine’s front door, kissing him up against the wall, before he told him, “I won’t be able to stay ‘til morning.” Blaine panted against the blonde’s cheek, not caring about tomorrow. He was hard and wanting to be kissed again.

 _“Tonight we love,”_ Blaine sang as he pushed his new friend's overcoat and jacket off, letting them drop to the floor, and pushed himself up onto his tiptoes to capture Jerry’s lips once more.

* * *

 


	4. Chapter 3   1948

Monday brought with it a little sunshine, even though the snow from the Christmas storm still lingered underfoot. Blaine [whistled a merry tune](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/91201027235/cheekboners-like-a-robin-upon-a-tree-like-a) as he climbed the steps to the library’s entrance and greeted the closest marble lion, Fortitude, as he did every weekday morning. His still slightly stretched muscles tingled with satisfaction after his roll in the hay with Jerry on Saturday night and from a second romp in the early hours of Sunday morning before he’d had to leave.

Of course Blaine would be the first to admit it wasn’t love. Jerry was still firmly entrenched inside the closet and taken, that had become evident when he insisted on leaving before sunrise as his fiancé, Christina, would be finishing up a night shift and would expect him to be home. Jerry had been a nice distraction to an otherwise lonely Saturday night, pure and simple. No regrets. No strings. Blaine took up the cadence of the song under his breath as he went through the revolving door.

 _"…And no connection_  
_No ties to my affections_  
_I'm fancy free_  
_And free for anything fancy,"_

Forgoing the elevator ride with a number of gentlemen who also worked on the upper floors of the library, Blaine headed for the ornate stairs to take him up to the patent office. He cleared the steps two at a time as he continued to play the rest of the tune in his head while mouthing the words.

 _"Like a robin on a tree  
Like a sailor that goes to sea_  
_Like an unwritten melody_  
_I'm free, that's me_  
  
_So bring on the big attraction_  
_My decks are cleared for action_  
_I'm fancy free_  
_I'm free for anything fancy."_

Blaine sang the last two lines out loud as he burst through the door into the [large patent office](http://digitalgallery.nypl.org/nypldigital/dgkeysearchdetail.cfm?strucID=446860&imageID=1153333) with a flourish.

The noise of his arrival echoed through the long research room that held gigantic suspended wrought iron chandeliers. Aisle upon aisle of grand wooden shelves housed reference books to one side with further stacks on the mezzanine floor above them. The rest of the area was an airy reading space, with a double height ceiling and long tables laid out all the way to the back wall, which also accommodated each of the patent officer’s desks.

“My word, you’re in a good mood. And a good morning to you too, Blaine,” Adam Crawford, the middle aged office manager, greeted him warmly in his clipped English accent while Blaine hung up his hat, scarf and coat.

“Morning, Mr. Crawford,” Blaine said with a laugh, unable to stifle his grin. “How was your anniversary? Did your wife like the earrings?”

“We-ell, it was perfectly respectable. Oh, and yes. She loved them as a matter of fact. It was a capital idea, and all thanks to you, lad.”

Blaine tilted his head bashfully. Jewelery wasn’t exactly his forte but he was pleased that he could help out.

“Once your off-sider arrives, pop into my office, would you? I need to discuss an opportunity with you,” Adam said with a nod while carrying a pile of paperwork over to the long mahogany desk shared by Blaine and his co-worker. He turned his head as the ding of the elevator’s arrival caught his attention. “Ah! Speak of the devil. There you are Hunter. Set about filing these away, won’t you?” Adam duly deposited the stack of files into Hunter’s unsuspectingly arms. “Blaine? My office?” he said as a summons.

Blaine flashed an easy smile at his newly arrived and dishevelled co-worker, Hunter Clarington, who only heaved a great sigh and yanked at his crooked tie with a grimace. Blaine dutifully followed his boss into the only corner office and shut the door behind him, but not before sneaking another peek at Hunter to be sure he wasn’t simply going to turn tail and leave as he had once before. Blaine knew how the tall blond loathed Monday mornings but he was pleased to see his co-worker toss his hat in the direction of the coat stand and heave the stack of files onto their shared work space. Satisfied, Blaine let the door click closed.

“Sit, please,” Adam waved at the pair of hard backed reading chairs that sat empty in front of his austere oak desk as he took a seat in the padded chair behind it. Blaine sat closest to the door, his hands folded in his lap. Although Adam hadn’t said anything negative in the slightest, Blaine couldn’t help feeling like he’d done something wrong and was about to get the axe. He waited anxiously for his manager to begin.

“Tea?” Adam offered, pouring a cup for himself from the fresh pot he brewed upon his arrival at the office.

“Thank you, no,” Blaine replied smoothly. It must be bad if he was being offered a cup of tea. His boss was a strong believer of tea being the answer to all of life’s tragedies. Blaine supposed it may simply be a British quirk but he couldn’t be sure. It didn’t help that the clanking of Adam’s spoon against the china cup as he stirred milk in seemed like the sound of impending doom.  

Adam re-took his seat and sipped from the steaming cup. “Much better!” he said with a cheeky smile to Blaine who continued to wait quietly. “Now Blaine, I must say you’ve been quite the breath of fresh air around the place since you started here. Do you enjoy working here? In this…” Adam gestured broadly, “…ah, office, as it were.”

“Oh! Uh, yes, very much, Mr. Crawford.” Blaine braced himself for the worst. A complaint, perhaps? Or a transfer? Oh yes. That would be _much_ worse. Or maybe his original instinct was right and he was about to be _fired!_ He sent a silent prayer out to save both his job _and_ his hide and mentally crossed his fingers that it wouldn’t come to that.

“Good, good. Well, as it happens I have an opportunity for you to make your mark here.”

“Oh?”

“You see, we need to ensure that all patent officers, from those here in this office to those in Albany, and in fact, all officers throughout the USPTO, are doing things the same way. That’s where you come in.”

“I do?” Maybe this wasn’t bad news after all.

“You’re a by-the-book man, Blaine, and I admire that in one so young. So after some consideration and discussion with the powers that be, I’d like for you to take on a new project that will benefit not only you, but this entire office. What do you say?”

“Uhm. I’m flattered? But what is it exactly you’re asking me to do?”

“Oh! How remiss of me!” Adam laughed at himself self-deprecatingly. “You’re to write a manual covering how to examine and issue patents. Of course you’ll need to involve a few participants from other branches and the solicitor, but essentially you’ll be creating a new book of reference and study for patent officers young and old.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Blaine said in surprise.

“Your manual will be instrumental in helping people, Blaine. Think back to when you yourself were studying for the bar and imagine what a volume like this could have done to help you. You’ll be able to help so many new examiners. Not to mention those seeking our help when applying for a patent. Stream-lining the way we do things around here is the perfect way to make fewer errors and to speed up the process. It’s all up to you now, Blaine, and whether you think you’re up to the task. Frankly, I believe you’d do a fine job. An upstanding young man like yourself would do me, and this office, proud. Well, what do you think?”

Astounded, Blaine shook his head in disbelief. This meeting had taken a sharp turn down an unexpected road and he was still trying to get a handle on the idea.

“Sir, I- I- Your vote of confidence in me is _overwhelming_. What about my day to day duties with clients? It’s part of what I enjoy so much about this job, Mr. Crawford.”

“You won’t be completely removed from the process, Blaine. You’ll need to continue working with a few clients here and there to keep the actual procedures at the forefront of what you’re writing about, but the load will be significantly be lightened so you’ll have time to interview others and make notes as you go.”

Blaine breathed a sigh of relief and rubbed his hands along his thighs. He was excited about the opportunity to help others, but he had chosen this career specifically for the daily contact with new people. To be able to do both put him at ease.

“In that case, sir, I would _love_ to take on this challenge.”

“Splendid! I knew you were the right man for the job. We’ll meet later to go through your current case load and I’ll make the arrangements with the other three officers as to who’ll get what.”

“I’d better get out there, sir. Mondays are always busy for us.”

“Quite right. I’ll make the announcement this afternoon.”

Blaine gave a final nod and stood up quickly, giving himself an involuntary slap to his own thighs that startled him into a bright laugh. Leaving Adam’s office, he picked up the happy tune he’d been whistling to himself earlier and headed to his desk, eager to start the day.

* * *

 

The thing about Blaine Anderson was that he was a whistler. Hunter hated the habit. It was obnoxious. _Blaine_ was obnoxious. No one should be that cheery on a Monday morning. No one.

“Good morning, Hunter! How was your weekend? Did you do anything special for Valentine’s Day? No? Oh wow, look at the bags under your eyes. Are you coming down with a cold? You know, I have the perfect remedy for you! My mother swears by it...” Blaine prattled on, oblivious to Hunter’s grumbling under his breath.

While his chirpy colleague jotted down his mother’s never fail cure-all, Hunter Clarington III wondered flippantly, although not for the first time, if he’d be able to get away with burying Blaine’s body in Bryant Park behind the library.

“There!” Blaine presented him with a hand written recipe for some concoction or other and beamed at him like he’d cured poverty and polio in one foul swoop. Hunter side eyed the paper that Blaine was still proffering and waited for his hung over brain to come up with a biting retort or some such thing but at the sudden loss of his wits, he merely pursed his lips and begrudgingly took the damn thing. At least it would shut him up.

Or not.

“I do believe a cup of coffee is in order this morning,” Blaine said definitively. “Shall I fetch you a cup as well? I think we’re both in need of a little perking up, don’t you? Perhaps with a splash of cream?”

Hunter nodded reluctantly. He _could_ do with a second cup, although he hated relying on Blaine for anything. Even a lousy cup of coffee. Still bitterly musing, Hunter watched his co-worker stride away jauntily and wondered exactly how much more perky Blaine Anderson could possibly get.

Of course this Monday wasn’t so vastly different from any other. In fact most mornings saw Blaine merrily chit chatting away with the other two officers and the various research assistants that were in the office and, truth be told, most Mondays Hunter was in much the same state that he was in now, having suffered defeat in a high stakes poker game or two and the subsequent drowning of his sorrows.

Hunter shuffled through the tall stack of files that Adam had stuck him with and considered precisely where he should start and why he should care. He started to hum a [tune](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/91202657225/unaffiliatedmagpie-why-dont-you-do-right-like) under his breath and began sorting through the paperwork, making two piles, and plucked out only the easiest looking items for himself. Seniority should have its rewards after all. He shoved the rest in an untidy heap to left, leaving them askew on Blaine’s side of their shared desk, and started to straighten himself out. By the time Blaine was on his way back with two cups of coffee in tow, Hunter had buttoned his collar, straightened his tie and swept a hand through his short hair, pushing it up off his face.

He was well aware of Blaine’s predisposition - the kid couldn’t keep a secret to save his life - and Hunter was not above using it to his advantage particularly if it meant being able to palm off actual work. When Blaine had started at the library, Hunter had taken him under his wing, to keep the boy on his side politically speaking, and, not long afterwards, had found himself the focus of an unexpected crush. Even now, months later, he noticed that Blaine’s eyes still traveled up and down his body occasionally, checking out one of his new suits.

Hunter couldn’t begrudge him looking though. He knew he was a handsome specimen of manhood. Thanks to the inheritance of his grandfather’s strapping, athletic frame and strong jaw line, and his mother’s grey-blue eyes and thick dark blond hair, they’d left him with classic all-American good looks. Unfortunately, it was all he’d inherited from the great Clarington estate. Thanks to Hunter’s long deceased father, Lionel, and his speculation in unsound investments, their illustrious family name had been left in tatters along with their fortune. Mercifully the only traits Hunter had inherited from his disgraced father was a dimple in his left cheek and a level of cunning that included an uncanny knack to land on his feet no matter the situation.

With his looks and wile, Hunter cleverly parlayed his way into the best hotel’s back rooms to play poker with bored playboys and veteran tycoons several nights a week. Although he lost more often than he won, when he did win, he won big. It allowed him to coast along at his boring but reputable job by day and left his evenings free to do as he pleased which, when he wasn’t up for a game, was to chase skirts downtown.

Blaine’s voice carried as he called out another greeting to another co-worker while heading back to their desk. Hunter made a show of stretching, lacing his fingers behind his head and groaning as his shirt buttons strained over his muscular chest in hopes of distracting the kid from the substantially smaller pile of papers in front of him compared to Blaine’s.

“Another day, another dollar!” Blaine said happily as he set the coffee cups down and eagerly eyed the mound of paperwork in front of him.

Hunter swiftly clamped his mouth shut, knowing nothing polite was about to spill out of it as Blaine’s cheerfulness continued to rankle at him. Doggedly ignoring his co-worker, Hunter’s teeth ground together as his grandfather’s wretched motto echoed in his ears.

_“Hard work reaps its own reward.”_

As always, the thought of turning up today for a couple of lowly dollars sent a surge of heat through Hunter’s body, making sweat prick uncomfortably at his skin. He didn’t know how much longer he could stick with this clock puncher gig. He wasn’t a goody two shoes like Blaine, who expected to work day in and day out without glory or acclaim. Sure Hunter had done his time, at his grandfather’s insistence, earning a trade with a practical qualification, but he expected so much more from life.

Growing up in his grandfather’s care, after his father’s passing, meant listening to constant lectures of the value of a dollar and how he was a _Clarington_ \- a name that _should be_ associated with a certain level of sophistication and standing, and _not_ with Lionel’s shameful stock market scandal from decades earlier. Even now, with his grandfather long gone, Hunter strived to become wealthy enough to redeem himself, and the shame of his failed father, and the family name. He just needed an opportunity - just one stroke of luck that would restore the Clarington’s fortunes - and that was where Hunter’s father came in. It was the only lesson that Hunter had learned from him - the greater the risk, the greater the reward.

Hunter sighed heavily and took a swig of bitter coffee while Adam propped open one of the heavy walnut doors to signal the start of business for another drab day in yet another dull week.  He braced himself for the onslaught. Mondays were their busiest day of the week thanks to kooky inventors and mad scientists who seemed to spend their weekends locked away coming up with futile ideas to patent.

He snorted derisively when he saw them. Three stiffs, all dressed in a combination of tweed jackets, shabby slacks and spectacles as if they’d burst forth from his imagination, bustled through the doorway, each with files and crumpled drawings clutched under their arms like they were state secrets. He could smell the stink of desperation coming from them as they hurried towards his and Blaine's desk. All of them vying for attention; wanting to be first to get their name on something that would most likely fail anyway.

“Oh boy! Here we go!” Blaine cheered from the seat next to him as Hunter rolled his eyes in contempt.

“Good morning! Welcome to the U.S. Patent Of- Oh! Hello again, Mr. Kosnowski,” Blaine greeted the older of the three men, who immediately broke off to Blaine's side of the long desk.

Hunter dismissed the grey haired old man as he took his seat in front of Blaine, slamming his papers on the desktop. Instead, Hunter watched the two bleary eyed but excited looking guys in their late thirties. They seemed to want Blaine's attention as well, loitering off to the side, preparing themselves for a wait, and Hunter suddenly realized that the papers in front of him were probably making him seem unavailable. Usually Hunter would welcome the assumption and pretend to flip through the paperwork while Blaine did the actual heavy lifting - but not today.

It wasn’t that he wanted additional work, but he couldn’t just sit back and let Blaine be the hero - again. He’d seen how Adam had taken a shine to the kid and he also knew that if he didn’t take these cases that he’d never hear the end of it from his boss, not about his lack of turning over patent applications, but rather he’d be forced to listen to yet another speech marveling over ‘Blaine the wunderkind’. He was fed-up with hearing all about Blaine. He could practically parrot Adam’s lilt as he raved on and on about how clever the kid was and how much faith the applicants had in him. Yawn. It was enough to drive him to drink - which he would do, later - once these crack pots had wandered off with his co-worker to play hide-and-go-seek in the reference section.

“I wouldn’t risk the wait if I were you,” Hunter remarked casually, pushing his papers off to one side. “He’s a talker. Could be there _all_ day,” he said disinterestedly. The younger of the two men still waiting jolted towards Hunter aggressively, yanking out the wooden chair in front of the desk to take a seat. Hunter leaned back in his chair, linked his hands and listened with a raised eyebrow as the man before him started his spiel.

It was almost interesting, the random notions that came through the door every day - almost. At the very least, it made the time pass. As usual, there was the introduction where the applicant rambled nervously about their idea, and then came his own explanation of the lengthy and expensive research and application process. That often sent the applicant into a tizzy and off to a corner of the office to start the research process for themselves without paying for the application fee up front, which was where the research assistants came in – helping the applicants to get their information in order. Then, if there was confirmation that the idea was unique and able to be patented, the official application could be made. That whole process normally took weeks, if not months. It was unusual for someone to come in with all the ground work done – well, on a mechanical or design patent anyway.

Those were his and Blaine's specialties respectively. There were two other agents in the office available to handle the composition and compound applications. They often had it a little easier, given that most applicants came through a lawyer or a medical school, meaning that the research had often been completed to a high standard. Of course, the officers still had to check it themselves, but it was a much more straightforward process.

Hunter knew that Blaine had a degree in engineering, which was not so dissimilar to his own qualification, but he had the edge in terms of practical experience. While Blaine had been still wet behind the ears, Hunter had been a naval officer during the war and earning a tidy sum on the side in a mutually beneficial trade agreement with the locals in the Pacific.

Logistics was something most personnel, both on and off base, had taken for granted. As long as there was a transport to get the higher ups from one place to another no one questioned his additional requisitioning or why the vehicles weren’t as new as they should‘ve been. It was quite ironic that, without any effort, Hunter could get anything mechanical to work but positively hated getting his hands grimy. In part, that’s how he became a big picture man, making sure he was the one calling the shots and getting other people to do the actual dirty work. Of course, no one outside of his black market contacts knew anything of his double dealings. Hunter had managed to keep it all under wraps, even now his boss and co-workers only knew about his official naval duties.  Still, he liked to reminisce of the days when he’d been the one in charge, instead of the one taking orders.

Hunter had just finished up talking through another futile idea with Mad Scientist Number Six when old Mr. Kosnowski barrelled back over to Blaine with one more infernal question. Hunter couldn’t stand the man. Aside from the perpetual smell of camphor, Mr. Kosnowski simply didn’t stop talking long enough to listen properly even when Blaine was giving him the advice he needed. Hunter drummed his fingers on the table top and willed his wristwatch’s hands to turn faster. The sooner he could get away from this drudgery, the sooner he could take a swig from the hip flask hidden in his inner jacket pocket. That would be a sure fire way of getting through the afternoon. He eyed the door again, hoping that no new idiot inventor would appear in the remaining fifteen minutes left before their break officially began.

The ticking of his watch seemed to stop as Hunter’s gaze drifted back to the clock face and he groaned knowing that it meant his fear was about to be realized. There in the doorway, looking around hesitantly stood a tall young man with a thick envelope in his hand. Hunter growled under his breath and sat back heavily, casting a look of contempt to the high corniced ceiling above. Why can’t he just catch a break?

* * *

 

Kurt’s mood had never been better. The call from Harvey Jacobson’s office last week had brought with it confirmation that everything was in order with his tire chain idea and he could, at any time, lodge a patent application at the city’s local office.

Even the mushy snow on the sidewalks outside couldn’t deter him from his purpose today. In fact it only spurred on the [lively song](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/91202689580/janiemcpants-25-days-of-christmas-day-1) that was playing in his mind as he carefully picked his way carefully from where the bus had let him out to public library’s wide steps on Fifth Avenue in an effort to keep his new shoes dry. His stomach gurgled in apprehension with every step he climbed and Kurt paused for a moment to gulp down a lungful of chilly February air as the massive marble columns and arches towered before him. Walking into this building would bring him that much closer to securing a financially stable future for himself and his father. He gripped the handrail tightly as he made the final ascent and headed for the main entrance, letting the revolving brass door of the building swallow him whole.

When Kurt emerged on the other side, his breath caught at the sheer size of the gargantuan white marble lobby. Several towering marble columns held scores of glowing candle bulbs. Kurt gasped at as he took it all in. Beside him a cough got his attention and Kurt quickly realized that he was in the way of an incoming slew of visitors coming through the doorway. He stepped aside, and found himself in front of an elderly guide from whom he inquired the way to the patent office and was directed to one of the upper levels.

Kurt dismissed the idea of the elevator and headed for the huge marble staircase hoping to get rid of some of the nerves that had been plaguing him this morning. He couldn’t shake the feeling that his life was about to change tremendously, and he had dressed for the occasion. He’d decided to wear his new black shoes this morning, and put on one of his older [woollen suits](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/91201146110/kurt-hummel-vivienne-westwood-suit), which had decidedly shrunk since he’d last worn it in Ohio. The mid blue and olive green tartan suit was shot through with a trio of vermilion stripes and was eye catching even beneath the long black pea coat he’d donned to keep out the cold. The final touch was his new olive fedora that had a contrasting dark green Petersham ribbon with flat bow and red tinted feather that underscored his entire outfit.

Rounding the final stairs, Kurt tucked the manila envelope that Harvey had sent back to him under his arm and removed his black capeskin gloves, shoving them into his pockets. This was it. Now or never. He took another breath to steel himself and marched through the open door of the U.S. Patent Office. He was finally ready to take that step into the future.

What he wasn’t ready for though, was for no one to pay any attention to him whatsoever.

Kurt glanced around the room uncertainly, taking in a scattered group of gentlemen who were alternately pouring over thick volumes or quietly arguing with each other. This wasn’t quite what he expected, although he hadn’t really stopped to think about what the inside of a patent office actually looked like. He spied an office in a corner and was about to make a bee line for it when he noticed two eye catching men sitting at a more substantial looking desk facing the door he’d just come through.

The handsome blond, clearly the taller of the two, was unreceptive, and as Kurt caught his eye the blond gave nothing more than a weak smile and busied himself with a notepad. The dashing brunet though, put together in a three piece dark grey suit and a bright [bowtie](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/91201266615/blaine-anderson-brooks-brothers-bow-tie) in diagonals of green, yellow and orange, glanced up at Kurt and did a double take, quickly excusing himself to the older man beside his desk and sending him off to one of the other tables. The dark haired stranger’s bright smile drew Kurt forward instinctively until he was suddenly standing directly in front of the desk and at a loss for his own name.

Unexpectedly, Kurt’s mouth was suddenly dry and his palms sweaty. He blinked helplessly as he took in the generous curve of the man’s mouth and wondered if his nerves were from taking this legal step or from his undeniable attraction to this man. The stranger’s large amber eyes, framed with a thick set of lush dark eyelashes, glanced at Kurt’s empty hand once and then dazzled him with a questioning gaze again. For the life of him, Kurt couldn’t recall how to function and simply stared back at him, overwhelmed. It wasn’t until the seated blond man beside them grumbled and shuffled some papers that Kurt finally regained his senses.

“Excuse me,” Kurt said still trying to find his voice. “Can I ask you a question?” And then he paused because he wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted to know first…something about a form and tires and snow but before all of that, Kurt _needed_ to know who this striking man was.

“Hi! Welcome to the U.S. Patent Office. My name’s Blaine.” Blaine held out his hand ready to shake his own and Kurt smiled to himself, discreetly wiping his palm on his coat before he returned the gesture, his cheeks warming as they clasped hands.

“Kurt,” he sighed with a nod, glad to not only be in the right place but to have met such an attractive man.

“Have a seat, Kurt. What can I help you with today?” Blaine asked with a reassuring smile.

“Oh. Oh!” Kurt remembered he was still holding the envelope from the lawyer and slid it onto the desk between them. “I’d like to patent an invention of mine. If I may?” Kurt inquired as he started to unwind the string from around the metal loop to open the envelope.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” Blaine replied confidently, helping Kurt to relax and simply breathe for a moment. “Why don’t you take off your coat and show me what you’ve got so far.”

Kurt stood and slid off his coat to drape over the back of his chair. Unbuttoning his jacket, Kurt dropped his hat on the desk and sat, then launched straight into his idea of an easier way to put on and adjust tire chains. He knew he was being a tad grandiose with his hands gesticulating madly while he talked, but once he pulled the extra drawings from the envelope he simply couldn’t stop himself. He made sure to run Blaine through the intricacies of the locking mechanism and then handed over the letter from his lawyer, along with a copy of his initial claim to O’Brien and Jacobson.

“So, you see, I believe I have everything I need; now I just have to patent it,” Kurt explained. Blaine flashed another encouraging smile at him and ducked down, opening a drawer and pulling out a thick pad which he placed on the desktop.

“Excellent work, Kurt. I think you’re right about that!” Blaine said encouragingly.

Kurt smiled back at him dreamily and wondered what it would be like to feel those plump lips against his. As Blaine started explaining the process, Kurt’s mind wandered, too busy watching Blaine's tanned hands as he pointed out various parts of the form to listen appropriately.

“What I’ll need you to do is write up your claim here,” Blaine said, presenting the application form and its carbon copies, “attach the drawings, sign the contract, pay the fee, and we’ll get to work on verifying your claim. That does take some time,” he warned as Kurt nodded trance-like, not caring in the slightest about the time frame as Blaine’s fingers touched the back of his hand. “It’s a similar process to what your lawyer has done already but we need to do our due diligence as well, and then  once it’s confirmed that there’s enough originality to claim a patent, we’ll contact you and issue a patent number against it. Make sense?”

“Uh huh.” The relief Kurt felt was palpable. After all the waiting between his dad and then the lawyer, he was anxious to get this over with. But he’d quickly gotten the sense that he was in good hands with Blaine. There was something about the man that had immediately put Kurt at ease. Not completely, of course. Kurt was still sitting across from one of the most handsome men that he’d ever had the good fortune of meeting in the flesh, so he couldn’t be too annoyed that his palms remained a tad too clammy. Kurt surreptitiously grazed his hands along his thighs to dry them off once again and quickly glanced over to the blond man seated alongside Blaine, thankful that he seemed to be completely engrossed in copying something down and not paying any attention to Kurt’s physical responses.

“Excellent. Okay, I’ll run through these first questions with you and then you’ll fill out the rest, and sign and date here,” Blaine said, indicating a section at the bottom of the page. Kurt listened and answered as Blaine ran through the basic enquiries of his full name and contact details, and then started adding in detail about the design and its application. “Here you go,” Blaine said as he spun the pad around and handed his pen over, their fingers touching briefly before Blaine was shifting in his seat. “You do that, and I’ll get a receipt written out for you.”

Kurt’s nerves jangled harshly at those words.

_‘A receipt.’_

Dread curled in the pit of his stomach as he realized that he’d never asked exactly how much the application would cost. He sucked in both his lips and sent out a silent prayer to no one in particular that he would have enough to cover the fee. Kurt signed his name quickly and jotted down the date while Blaine rifled through one of his drawers. It was too late to back out now. He’d have to face the music and find out if the fifteen dollars in his wallet would be enough. Kurt laid the pen down and watched as the blond man on the other side of the desk shot him a calculated look, and then pushed away from his chair and headed through a side door that Kurt hadn’t noticed before.

“Where is that darned receipt book?” Blaine muttered to himself as he opened another drawer.

“Um…Blaine?” Kurt asked shakily with his sweaty hands gripping the wooden arms of the chair. “I- I can’t believe I didn’t ask this earlier but, um, how much is the fee? Exactly?”

The silence from Blaine was deafening as he continued to concentrate on his search. “Ah-ha! I found it!” he cheered, waving the small book above his head in victory.

Kurt cleared his throat expectantly. He needed the answer to his question. His whole future was riding on it.

“Oh, the fee? It’s only thirty dollars, Kurt,” Blaine said waving a hand at him good-naturedly as he dropped the receipt book onto his desk. “A bargain when you’ve got a winning design, like this.”

Kurt watched the pen and pad disappear from in front of him but he couldn’t hear a thing, his brain was stuck on one thing and one thing only.

_‘Thirty dollars, Kurt. Only thirty dollars.’_

It might as well be a thousand.

* * *

 

“Kurt? Kurt?” Blaine’s head whipped around looking for help but everyone had disappeared for lunch. “Damn!” he swore to himself. “Kurt?” He snapped his fingers in front of Kurt’s sweet yet stunned face a few times, breathing a sigh of relief when the elegant but clearly shocked man finally startled and jerked back in his chair.

“Oh my god,” Kurt groaned and buried his face in his hands.

Blaine’s heat sunk. Something had gone terribly wrong in the last few minutes and he was guessing it was the money. He’d been sure it wasn’t going to be an issue for Kurt. Clearly he’d gone to some expense already, what with the lawyer and all, not to mention his snazzy new hat and shoes.

“Is it the fee?” Blaine wanted to confirm, making sure there was nothing he’d done to upset Kurt’s apple cart so badly. He couldn’t bear the thought of not being able to help someone who had this much passion over an idea, particularly someone as fetching as Kurt.

“Yes,” Kurt said quietly from behind his hands.

“I’m so sorry, Kurt. Really, I am,” Blaine consoled, and was reassured momentarily when Kurt’s hands fell away until those striking blue-green eyes met his and the depth of Kurt’s disappointment registered. “How much do you have?”

“Only half,” Kurt mumbled, looking embarrassed as he crossed his arms and looked away. Blaine sighed in defeat. There was nothing official he could do to help when it came to that large of a shortfall. However, that didn’t stop him from racking his brain as to what else he could do to get Kurt what he needed.

“I’m sorry I’ve wasted your time,” Kurt apologized hastily as he leaped to his feet and rushed to gather up his things from the desk.

“No! Don’t go,” Blaine insisted, not ready yet to say farewell to this spectacular, passionate man before him, and was relieved when Kurt slumped back down in the chair. “We’ll…we’ll think of something.”

“Thank you, Blaine, but let’s- Let’s just forget I ever came in today,” Kurt said with rosy cheeks while he stuffed his papers back into the envelope.

“Hey. No, I can’t do that,” Blaine said trying to buy some time. “Besides Kurt, you’re kinda unforgettable,” he admitted softly, tilting his head to catch Kurt’s eye and smiling when his face flushed pink. “Can I ask why you’re taking this so hard?”

Kurt sighed heavily and focused on Blaine. “Because up until today, I’d never been this close to making my dreams come true.” Kurt shook his head in resignation and looked so utterly devastated that Blaine decided to throw caution to the wind just to see him smile again.

 _“_ C’mon, lemme buy you lunch.”

“What?” Kurt glanced back up in surprise and caught Blaine’s wry smile.

“Look we’re both smart cookies, I bet we can figure a way around this, and I don’t know about you but I think better on a full stomach. C’mon, there’s a place nearby.”

Kurt bit his lip and then nodded with a smile as Blaine scooped up the manila envelope.

* * *

 

Blaine’s soup grew cold while he listened, captivated, his thoughts absolutely in tune with the [music](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/91202698415) playing in the coffee shop, as Kurt spoke of his plan to have the new chains made and sold in his father’s tire shop in Lima. Apparently Kurt’s dad was of the mind to sell them throughout Ohio, which Blaine thought was a great idea and made sure to tell Kurt as much.

He tore another piece from his bread roll and watched Kurt seated across from him, loving the way his upswept thick brown hair shook when he laughed and the way his hand flapped as he got excited about how this could’ve changed his whole life, but it was his eyes, those sun kissed, ocean colored eyes that had Blaine hypnotized.

“If my father had his way, he’d take out a full page advert in the New York Times,” Kurt said and added, “Not that he could afford that,” and then with another breathless laugh said, “Oh, but I can see it now!” He spread his hands wide to show the headline. “Don't throw yourself around on icy roads like you don't matter. 'Cause you matter. Invest in Hummel’s Chains this winter.”

“Hummel’s Chains,” Blaine imitated Groucho Marx for his slogan, “You can bet your life on ‘em!” Kurt chuckled, making the connection to Marx’s radio show.

“Hummel’s Chains – we hate snow like we hate the Nazis!” Kurt declared as Blaine wrinkled his nose. “Too much?” Kurt asked with a crooked grin.

“I kinda like snow,” Blaine confessed, his face scrunching up as he put it out there. “You know, snowmen, snow angels, snowball fights…” he trailed off as Kurt enthusiastically jumped in with more suggestions.

“…Mulled wine, snuggling up by the fire, form-fitting sweaters. Oh!” Kurt slapped Blaine’s wrist playfully. “And boots!”  He added with wide eyes, like he’d overlooked the most important point of them all.

Blaine shook his head in amusement. “Yes! Boots. Can’t-” His eyes dropped to where Kurt’s hand was still resting on his forearm. “Can’t forget about…boots.” Blaine lifted his gaze to meet Kurt’s and concentrated on remembering how to breathe. “Boots are…   very…” His train of thought drifted off as his eyes dropped to Kurt’s mouth.

“Important.” Kurt pressed his lips together and then smiled, looking pleased as punch. “Boots are very important,” he reaffirmed seriously and then slowly removed his hand to take up his cup of coffee. Blaine regarded him for a moment, wondering if what he was about to suggest would make things awkward between them.

“You know, I do think your idea has merit, Kurt, and I’d be honored if you’d let me help you out.”

“Honestly, I think you’ve done all you can. Without the rest of the fee, my plans are sunk. At least until next autumn.”

“But that’s just it! They don’t have to be. I mean I don’t have exactly the sum you need but I have some savings and I’d-”

“No. Blaine, no. I couldn’t ask that of you.” Kurt leaned back and looked at him apologetically.

“You’re not asking. I’m offering,” Blaine pointed out.

“That- that is so sweet of you. Sincerely. But I can’t accept your money, Blaine. I can’t. It wouldn’t be right. We barely know each other.”

“You could consider me as an investor?” Blaine added weakly, knowing that he’d already lost the debate.

“Thank you, but no. I need to do this on my own.” Blaine nodded in understanding and decided to offer something else instead.

“In that case, I’m going to keep the form you filled out today,” he said and then tacked on a proviso, “And I’m going to call you next quarter to make sure you’re still on track to make your dreams come true.” He nodded to himself, content with the idea even if it was against company policy. “I’ll keep it on file until you can pay the application fee.”

“Is that-? That’s not against the rules?” Kurt asked as Blaine shrugged nonchalantly. “You’d do that for me?”

“ _Kurt._ I believe in this, and you.”

“You do?” Kurt asked, seemingly mystified.

“I do. And listen, we could remedy not knowing each other, you know,” Blaine suggested with a quirk of his eyebrow, taking a sip of his drink as Kurt frowned. “I propose that we…get to know one another. What do you think?”

 “Friends then?” Kurt asked with a shy smile and Blaine felt himself go a little wide eyed at Kurt’s misunderstanding of his insinuation. He quickly shrugged off his disappointment by rolling his eyes comically and succeeded in getting another loud laugh from his new pal.

“Friends it is.” If that was the way Kurt wanted it, there was no way Blaine was going to complain. Kurt was amazing company; intelligent, kind, breathtaking. Everything Blaine had ever wanted.

* * *

 

Hunter slid back behind his desk a few minutes late, surprised that Blaine wasn’t already back from lunch. He’d never beaten the kid back before, and Hunter felt the urge to check over his shoulder to be sure the pipsqueak wasn’t actually here. It was so unlike him not to be sitting all prim and proper in his seat quietly judging Hunter as he rolled in after a smoke.

Hunter’s checking revealed that Blaine definitely wasn’t in the office. His application pad, though, was a different story. All filled out and everything. Hunter craned his neck and leaned sideways to get a better view. It was bad form to rubberneck at other people’s applications, but rules were made to be broken as far as he was concerned - especially if he got something out of it. He pulled the pad and loose papers that were stuck beneath it closer.

With half an eye on the door, he scanned through the description of the invention and flipped through the drawings – which he had to admit, however begrudgingly, was a pretty damn good idea. What was missing was obvious – well, it wasn’t what was _missing_. It was what was _still there._ The signed white copy of the triplicate carbon form was still attached to the pad. Not only that, but Hunter spied a receipt book lying out in the open on the kid’s desk. For Blaine that was tantamount to sacrilege.

Blaine was one of those ‘everything has its place’ types. Which, to be honest, made it easy to screw with him on the regular and that just happened to be one of Hunter’s favorite pastimes. A crooked stack here, a knocked over stapler there and an empty paperclip cup, and the kid would get a bit twitchy. It was petty – Hunter knew that – but it was the only way to get Blaine, the perfect boy wonder in a bow tie, to put a foot wrong. The pleasure Hunter got from watching the kid get tetchy, then sulky, and then find a way to distract Adam for long enough to break into his forbidden stationery cupboard to fetch some more paperclips was often the highlight of an otherwise crappy day. Hunter wondered what had happened to make Blaine leave his things in such a state.

He grabbed the receipt book and flipped through to the last used page, checking against the name on the form. Nothing under the name ‘Hummel’. Odd. Blaine was such a stickler for the rules. Yet here was a completed form with drawings but no receipt, and even more intriguing, there was still no sign of an increasingly tardy Blaine Anderson. Hunter’s curiosity was officially piqued. He jotted down a few notes from the application, hoping that he’d uncovered the Blaine’s Achilles heel and could use it to find a way to bring him down a peg or two.

The whistling was his warning. It echoed down the hallway before Blaine must’ve caught himself and it abruptly stopped. Hunter made sure to scrawl down a few last notes and the form number, then pushed it all back to where he’d found it on Blaine's desk and flipped his notebook over to show an empty page. He slumped down at his desk, a hand propping his chin up as he wiggled his pencil between his fingers and idly waited for Blaine to reappear, knowing he couldn’t be more than a few steps away from coming through the door. Taking one last opportunity to gloat to himself over the discovery, Hunter glanced down with a smirk and realized that the receipt book was right under his nose. Quickly, he snatched it up and gently tossed it over to the other side of the desk, watching with baited breath as it skidded close to the edge before stopping in time.

“Hey! How was lunch?” Blaine asked in an even more cheerful tone than he’d had this morning. Hunter raised his gaze to catch the kid’s eyes.

“Oh, fine. Can’t complain, I suppose. _You’re_ late though,” he remarked cordially. “Did that little flit keep you or something?” He couldn’t help himself. Hunter had to know what had happened after he’d left for lunch.

“Who? Kurt?” Blaine's eyebrows pitched upwards, making him look anxious. “Why would you say that?”

“You’re late is all,” Hunter ignored his concern. “I think Adam was looking for you,” he added, tightening the screws a little.

“He was?” Blaine’s voice squeaked in alarm. “Oh! Oh dear. Dang it, look at the time!”

“Relax. You’re making me tense. So what was the big idea he had? Kurt, was it?” Hunter nodded towards the application on Blaine's desk.

“Oh, um…” Blaine looked unsure. He pulled the pad towards himself and frowned, flipping the cover over to hide the completed form. “It was, uh, a locking mechanism on a snow chain, for tires? He uh, had another appointment he was rushing to, so he had to leave.” Hunter smirked and had to glance away so as not to blow his cover. Blaine might well be an obnoxious little fruit but he was also a terrible liar, and that was good news for Hunter.

“Blaine?” Adam called out from his office doorway, startling them both. He clapped his hands, looking pleased with himself. “It’s time, yes?” Blaine nodded and chanced a look at Hunter, who was nothing short of confused.

“Come, come. Gather ‘round,” Adam called out to the mostly empty room. “Clark? Seth? Join us please,” he insisted to the other two officers as they wandered over. “I have an announcement to make. One that will distinguish us from all the other PTOs,” Adam said proudly. “Head office has a plan to write a procedural manual for everything we do pertaining to issuing patents, and young Blaine here has been chosen to do the honors!” Adam clapped the kid on the back a bit too hard, making him cough in surprise. “In the coming weeks, Blaine will be observing and interviewing each one of you in order to get the fullest picture of what we do and how. Your cooperation in this matter will be greatly appreciated. Now let’s give Blaine a hand. I’m sure he’ll do us proud,” Adam encouraged and led the smattering of applause. “Excellent, wonderful. Alright, that’s enough of that. Back to work,” he said, waving his hands to shoo them back to their desks. “Blaine, a word?” he said, pulling him to one side.

Hunter eased himself back into his seat and perked up his ears, straining to hear what Adam was saying to the kid, but only catching snippets.

“…If you play your cards right, that is,” Adam remarked.

“But I thought Hunter would be the one?” Blaine spoke softly, sounding confused.

“Well, yes. That _would_ be usual,” Adam replied diplomatically but quickly became excited as he added, “But this thing with the manual could really impress the head honchos so if you do even half as good as I think you will, I believe you’ll be sitting pretty in your own corner office someday soon.”

“Wow, really?” Blaine looked almost as gobsmacked as Hunter felt.

They couldn’t do that! Hunter spun his chair away and almost growled to himself. Promotions were always based on seniority. Always! And Hunter had been in the office at least a year longer than anyone else – certainly a damn sight longer than the smarmy little brown noser who was busy preening under Adam’s praise.

A silent rage coursed through Hunter’s veins at the thought of Blaine being his boss. He couldn’t let that happen. Hunter didn’t know exactly how, but he wasn’t going to let that kid get away with this outrage.

* * *

 

Blaine dropped his jacket over the arm of the old leather reading chair and headed for his brother’s drinks trolley, pouring himself a large glass of sherry. It’d been a helluva day. First the idea of the manual, then the tease of a promotion, plus dealing with Hunter’s oddball attitude this afternoon.  But none of that compared with Kurt. Delightful, effervescent, gorgeous Kurt.  

“Nice of you to make it,” Cooper joked as he leaned against the doorway of his study. “Mom says dinner will be ready in an hour. Oh shit. Straight sherry? It must be serious. Tell me _everything_!” He clapped his hands and glanced down the hallway before shutting the door.

Blaine took a sip from his too full glass then flopped into the over-stuffed chair. “You won’t believe it, Coop,” he said in a daze.

“Well, spit it out! Is it work?” Blaine nodded and then quickly shook his head but changed his mind and nodded again.

“Okay so…” Blaine paused to take another swallow of the alcohol, concentrating on the cloying acidity as it worked its way his gullet. “There’s work stuff but- But that can wait. I’ll tell you about that over dinner with Mom and Dad.” He gulped another mouthful of his drink.

“Ooh, intrigue. Go on, Squirt,” Cooper encouraged. Blaine took a deep breath and shook his head like he was dizzy, his face breaking into a huge grin.

“I met someone today,” he said. He put his finger up to shush his older brother just as he opened his mouth to say something undoubtedly sarcastic. “Someone _amazing_.”

“Joltin’ Joe?”

Blaine huffed out a laugh, closing his eyes as he pictured Joe DiMaggio wandering into the patent office.

“No, it was-”

“Babe Ruth?” Cooper interrupted.

“What? No! Not someone famous,” he grumbled. “Someone special.” Cooper looked at him quizzically. “Kurt. His name is Kurt and gosh, Coop. He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever met,” Blaine gushed as Cooper broke into a smile.

“Hey, that’s fantastic! So…what, you didn’t want to bring him home to meet the folks yet?”

“Uh, no? I mean, he’s really great but I don’t think he’s quite on my wavelength.”

“Oh. Is he not…?”

“I think so. I-I didn’t ask but then who does these days? It’s hardly polite.” Cooper chuckled. “But he didn’t jump at my offer to get to ‘know’ each other outside of work, so maybe he's not or maybe he really does _just_ want to be friends.” Blaine screwed up his nose. “He’s kinda hard to read.”

“Sounds like to need to see him away from work. Let him get to know the real you and not just buttoned-up Blaine.”

“Maybe. I said I’d call in a few months.”

“Months? Well, shit a brick, Squirt. You’re never gonna get your man like that!” Blaine groaned and covered his face with his free hand.

“I know!”

“Um…Oh! I know. Pat’s gonna be out of town for a while so I wasn’t gonna go but why don’t you take our tickets to the Maurice Chevalier show the Sunday after next and invite this guy?”

“Oh no, I couldn’t,” Blaine said somewhat muffled from behind his palm.

“Yes, you can and you will. I insist,” Cooper said emphatically. Blaine peeked out from behind his hand and bit his lip as contemplated his next move.

* * *

 

“I’m glad you called,” Kurt confessed as he and Blaine strolled down West 45th Street to John Golden Theatre with their elbows bumping now and then.

“I hope you don’t mind that I used your number from the form,” Blaine suddenly apologized.

Kurt rolled his eyes and nudged his new friend’s arm, his hand still wedged in his coat pocket. “Don’t be silly. Anyway, you said over lunch that you were going to call, right? Where else were you getting my number from if not from the application?”

“I guess so,” Blaine said still sounding guilty.

“I’ve never been to a show like this at night,” Kurt admitted as the bright lights blazed with the theatre’s name, ‘Golden’, in giant letters overhead. “But I’m glad I finally have an occasion to wear this.” He motioned to his maroon velvet dinner jacket beneath the trench coat he was untying. Blaine whistled appreciatively and reached out to run the lapel’s fabric between his thumb and forefinger.

“Wow! Where did you _get_ this?”

“I made it,” Kurt said with an air of nonchalance. He’d embraced his creative side full force since first seeing Blaine at the library. When the invitation came, Kurt had dragged out a half finished sports coat and turned it into this instead.

“I’m impressed,” Blaine admitted.

“You should be,” Kurt said, with his chin tipped up gracefully but lost his cool immediately and laughed behind his hand. “Oooh, Blaine!” he said gripping Blaine's upper arm suddenly. “Look! Do you think they’re real?” he said in a rushed whisper as a well to do woman wandered past with a bejeweled peter pan collar around her neck.

Blaine craned his neck as she stepped out of sight. “Uh, maybe. If so, that’s a _lot_ of rubies.”

“And garnets, and topaz and did you see the blue beryl? Beautiful! Absolutely beautiful!”

“I didn’t know you had a thing for jewelery.”

“I’ve always liked sparkly things,” Kurt said with a toothy grin. “But you don’t see much of the real thing around a tire shop in nowheresville, Ohio.”

After they were ushered to their seats in the front row of the dress circle, they chatted about their shared upbringing in Ohio and waited for the show to start until finally, the crowd hushed as the lights went down. The curtains swept open to a simply dressed stage with the star front and center under a spotlight, and a small orchestra behind him.  Kurt grinned and applauded heartily as Blaine looked on from beside him, laughing at his enthusiasm.

Chevalier reminded him of his mother. She always did have a soft spot for French artistes, Maurice particularly. The Love Parade had come out at the movies the same year that Kurt had been born and his mother was said to have fallen in love twice that year, despite being happily married. After her passing, Kurt’s father kept the 12-inch records his mother had collected, including several of Chevalier’s. So when the star started singing an old favorite, ‘[Valentine](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/91541808145/valentine-maurice-chevalier)’, Kurt sighed blissfully and mouthed along to the words, his hand finding Blaine’s arm and squeezing it to express his joy.

As the show went on, and Chevalier did some of his impressions, Kurt laughed along and let his arm hook under his new friend’s. By the closing strains of the last song, ‘It’s Good To Fall in Love’, Kurt’s head was resting on Blaine's shoulder and Blaine had tucked his other hand over Kurt’s, letting go only when the curtain closed and the crowd around them burst into applause. Eventually the house lights came up and they both waited for the crowd to thin before getting up to head downstairs.

While they waited for the same train to take them towards their respective homes, an excited cry came from further along the platform.

“Blaine! Hey, Blaine!”

Beside him, Blaine turned and recognized the fella shouting his name, taking a few steps forward to wave out to him. “Oh my gosh! Chandler?” The vivacious blond bounded up to them both and immediately embraced Blaine like he was a long lost love.

“I haven’t seen you in an age!” Chandler said with a flirty giggle and a light slap to Blaine’s shoulder.

“Oh, stop,” Blaine flirted back, fluttering his long black eyelashes. “You have too.”

“Well, not enough of you,” Chandler said coyly, waggling his eyebrows behind his glasses.

“Oh, you!” Blaine exclaimed, seemingly flustered.

Kurt waited stock still. He was surprised to see his neighborhood friend out tonight at all, let alone being so overtly flirtatiously with Blaine. Kurt watched his companion for the evening closely, trying to discover how they knew each other without interrupting. As Blaine smiled demurely at something outrageous that Chandler had had the gall to say out loud, Kurt had a sudden and shocking thought. Could they be bed fellows?

“Gracious me! Kurt Hummel, as I live and breathe!” The blond squealed, spotting Kurt lingering a few paces behind them.

Kurt smiled as genuinely as he could, given the circumstances. Although he’d been delighted at the offer of Blaine’s friendship, Kurt had hoped this evening would be his first venture into romantic territory. Blaine was handsome and smart, and going by the lingering looks he kept casting to Kurt’s lips, he certainly wanted to be more than just friends. But Kurt, who continued to blush and ramble with every lusty look, just didn’t know quite how to make his own desire known, and now with Chandler practically all over Blaine, Kurt was out of his depth.

 “Chandler Kiehl. How are you?” Kurt asked politely.

“Fit as a fiddle,” Chandler declared. “Ah! Are you two together?” he asked, his finger twisting in mad circles between him and Blaine. But before Kurt could say yes, Blaine piped up and squeezed his shoulder.

“Actually I made Kurt’s acquaintance a few weeks ago through work. We’ve just seen a show actually, down at the Golden,” Blaine rushed out and practically interrupted himself to ask, “So you two know each other then?” His dark eyebrows contorted as concern swept over his face.

Unable to help himself, Kurt set Blaine's mind at ease immediately. “We live near each other,” he explained. “We got to talking one day over the state of oranges in a local store and now it seems like we’re always running into each other,” he said breathlessly. He knew he was overstating that last part but he felt extremely uncomfortable with the idea that Blaine and Chandler were… Or had… Kurt very much wanted the train to arrive so Chandler would stop talking.

Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. Chandler got on too and sat across from them chatting amiably with Blaine while Kurt made vague agreeable noises when pressed, until their stop was next. To get Blaine's attention, Kurt bumped his shoulder with his own.

“I need to thank you, Blaine. The show was absolutely wonderful. I loved it,” he said quietly, glad that Chandler had given them a private moment finally.

“It was my pleasure. Truly.” Kurt sucked in a sharp breath as Blaine’s hand came to briefly rest on his knee and squeezed. “I’m only sorry we didn’t have more opportunity to talk,” Blaine added, grimacing dramatically to make Kurt smile shyly.

“Another time?”

“Absolutely,” Blaine agreed readily.

“Time's up, we’re here!” Chandler called out as he stood and waited for Kurt to extricate himself past Blaine, before tugging him out to the platform. Kurt resisted once the train doors closed behind them, catching Blaine's gaze once more and raising a hand to say a silent ‘goodbye’ and watching his friend do the same with a poignant smile. Kurt sighed and let himself be dragged away while Chandler peppered him with questions.

It was going to be a long walk home.

* * *

 

Hunter flicked his torch light towards Blaine's desk and walked over to it very deliberately. He’d paid off one of the night guards but the other was too honest to go for such a deal, so Hunter was trying to steer clear of him tonight.

He quickly found what he was looking for in the second drawer down – the signed application form and drawings that the kid had stashed away. 

This is what he’d been waiting for – the chance of a lifetime. He’ll be rich in a hot minute, he’d see to that.

Hunter sat down at his desk and pulled out his own application pad. He copied down the details of the original design word for word – only this time it was under his name - and to finalize it, his thirty dollar check.

He couldn’t wait to see the look on that smarmy little hotshot’s face when he made Blaine stamp it as receipted first thing tomorrow morning. Let him talk his way out of that one.

* * *

 


	5. Chapter 4   1948

“I’m glad you came out this afternoon.” Blaine’s breath ghosted in the particularly chilly March air. He spun on his ice skates to face Kurt, skating backwards with ease and grinning to his friend who seemed a tad unsteady on his feet.

“Ahh!” Kurt cringed, his hands wavering in mid-air, waiting for the fall that didn’t come. “I haven’t done this since I was a kid,” he huffed out.

“You’re a natural.” Blaine smiled and kept pace in front of him, stretching a hand out encouragingly.

“And you’re a terrible liar, Blaine Anderson,” Kurt said dryly as several small children ran rings around them and then skated off at speed.

“Hey now, this is must do on all the tourist lists,” Blaine defended his choice of the Rockefeller Center skating rink on a Saturday afternoon. “It had to happen at some point.”

“Oh I know. The girls from work dragged me here before Christmas to see the tree. Only they weren’t persuasive enough to get me on the ice,” Kurt chided playfully.

“Give me your hand,” Blaine said with a chuckle.

“Like the song?” 

“Like the song,” Blaine confirmed and smiled to himself at the memory of his parents dancing in their cramped lounge to the old Irish ballad playing on their phonograph. He pulled Kurt along with him, skating faster and holding him steady with both hands. “Your feet know what to do, Kurt,” he chastised as Kurt kept his eyes glued to the ice in between them. “Watch me,” Blaine instructed, quietly gasping at the intensity of Kurt’s crystal clear blue eyes as they darted up and focused solely on him in a display of complete trust. It was almost enough to make Blaine lose his footing and take them both down to the ice. He wished for a moment that he could make everyone around them disappear, wanting to get closer than the arm’s width between them. He wanted, with all his heart, to know how Kurt really felt.

Kurt’s suggestion of friendship had seemed genuine, if wholly naïve, but during their last outing it had seemed like they could be so much more. The way they’d left things that evening had kept Blaine awake for more nights than he cared to admit. He’d replayed everything said between them both and Chandler, and then tormented himself with how Chandler had been the one to walk Kurt home, being the one to say the last goodnight and possibly more. After all, Kurt had certainly been bolder under the cover of darkness in the theatre, his hands finding Blaine’s easily. Perhaps he’d been even more forward once closer to home, inviting Chandler in for a nightcap, and even welcoming his advances. Chandler wasn’t one to dilly dally; his work afforded him many opportunities to be with men and Blaine had watched him seize as many as he could with both hands, and a few with his mouth. Blaine knew he could have done more that night, gotten out with them at their stop, insisting on seeing Kurt to his door but he hadn’t wanted to push the issue, worried that he’d read Kurt’s intentions in the theatre wrong.

As the frown of concentration faded from Kurt’s features and a toothy grin blossomed in its wake, Blaine tried to push those thoughts of uncertainty and envy away. If friendship was truly all that was on Kurt’s agenda, then Blaine was happy to have it. With renewed focus solely on enjoying his companion’s company, the rest of their trip around and around the rink was a breeze. Blaine let go of Kurt’s hands and joined him at his side, keeping a respectable distance between them as they skated the loop again. Each pass gave Kurt more confidence until they were taking turns at racing two small boys up and down the long sides, and weaving in and out of the crowd bunched up in the corners.

Dusk soon came and with it [music](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/92290661055/al-bowlly-youd-be-so-easy-to-love-1936) floated through the speakers, signalling the time for children to take their leave and for couples to take to the ice together. The soft glow of light bulbs strung above the rink added to the ambience and, though Blaine lamented that he couldn’t take Kurt by the hand for a romantic skate with the others, he was determined that their time together wasn’t to be over yet.

“How ‘bout a hot chocolate?” Blaine offered as they removed their skates at the bench beside the rink.

Kurt moaned and licked his lips. “Sounds heavenly!” Blaine’s eyes flickered to his mouth before he twisted away, determined to keep his brain on a friendly track. While they stood in line, Kurt asked him how work had been.

“Truthfully, I haven’t been in the office much this past week or so. Adam’s had me working out of the office in Albany, going through the differing procedures that a few of the offices from across the country have on file. That’s why I didn’t call earlier. I’ve been staying upstate for the past ten days.”

“Oh?” Kurt said thoughtfully, paying for their drinks and handing a paper cup over to Blaine. “But isn’t that difficult though? Not knowing anyone there?”

“Ah, but I do. I used to live there once. Well, not in the office but you know…So it’s been nice actually, seeing everyone I worked with again. I think Hunter’s taken it the hardest, though. Apparently he’s been asking after me practically every day.” Blaine smiled and leaned in to confide to Kurt. “And here I thought he’d be happy to be free from my company. He’s not exactly a morning person. Some days he looks positively murderous if I’m too chipper,” he added with a waggle of his eyebrows, making Kurt giggle.

“Maybe you’ve rubbed off on him,” Kurt said as his cheeks reddened, and then added shyly, “and he’s missing you.” He glanced up at Blaine, shooting him a soft smile, but quickly went back to fiddling with his cup. 

“Somehow I doubt that,” he said with a frown, wondering why Kurt had become bashful all of a sudden. It was almost a repeat of Chandler crashing their evening out, only this time there was no one to interrupt them. But seeing as he’d been reminded of their apparently mutual acquaintance, Blaine pressed on, hoping to get to the bottom of just how well Kurt knew their flirty friend. “Uh, have you seen Chandler lately? How is he?”

Kurt stiffened and looked up in surprise, his fixation on his cup instantly forgotten. “Oh, um….yes. We had dinner on Tuesday. He is-” Kurt sighed with a fond shake of his head. “Well, he was as animated as always. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him be quiet for more than a half a minute. Have you?”

Blaine merely nodded and swallowed the last of his drink, wondering if Kurt knew exactly how Chandler liked to be shut up.

“Blaine? Blaine, I- I have to ask,” Kurt said in a rush, “And this is really none of my business, and I certainly don’t mean to offend but…I don’t want to get in the middle of something if you and Chandler are…” Kurt glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were alone and whispered, “… _involved_.”

Blaine choked on the warm drink suddenly sliding down the wrong pipe in his throat. He crumpled the practically empty cup in his hand and coughed so hard that tears sprang to his eyes. He thumped himself on the chest and tried to get words out but only managed an ugly rasping sound.

“Oh my word! Are you alright?” Kurt shouted in alarm, jumping up to help him as Blaine continued to splutter. “Are you okay?” Kurt patted his back vigorously and fussed over him while he got his breathing back under control.

Blaine wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and took a deep breath, filling his burning lungs before he tried to speak again. He concentrated on the touch of Kurt’s hand where he was rubbing between Blaine’s shoulder blades, and then in longer strokes down his back in an effort to soothe him.

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” Blaine reassured him. “Just…” He started to laugh and waved Kurt away as he began to protest in concern. He covered his face and took another deep breath, composing himself to address his friend’s worry while Kurt sat back down.

“Kurt, there is nothing to get in the middle of. Chandler and I…we’re not-” Blaine tipped his head back, looking up at the darkened sky above and then looking directly at Kurt so as to make himself clear. “We’re not,” he leaned forward and spoke quietly, “involved.” Blaine sighed, leaning back in his seat. “We’ve never- He and I have never been _involved_.”

Kurt looked utterly relieved.

“Were you truly worried?” Blaine asked, wondering why it was so important all of a sudden. “Because you needn’t be,” he reassured. “I am committed, Kurt, to being your friend. As you are to me.”

Kurt smiled, looking mollified, although his cheeks were blazing as red hot as Blaine’s own face felt.

“Well, I think that’s about enough excitement and near death experiences as I need for one night,” Blaine said, standing and collecting their mangled paper cups. “How ‘bout you? Would you be so kind as to see me to the station, kind sir?”

“It’s the least I can do after trying to bump you off with tampered hot chocolate,” Kurt joked.

“Is that what it was?” Blaine teased.

“Honestly, I am _so_ sorry,” Kurt replied, looking mortified once more. Blaine nudged his shoulder as they fell into step beside each other, heading for the exit.

“Don’t even worry about it, silly. All is forgiven. I’ll even let you buy me another drink the week after next. I’ll be done in Albany for good by then.”

“Oh well, in that case…I’ll be sure to put the actual poison in that one,” Kurt said as they both laughed.

* * *

 

Kurt slotted his card into the time clock, listened to the click of the punch, and popped it back into his space on the wall. He headed for the cloak room on auto pilot to collect his coat and hat.

Working a double shift in the middle of the week always took it out of him but the extra padding in his pay packet made it all worthwhile. Today had not been extraordinarily busy, although, it had not been made any easier by Kurt staying up late the night before, listening to the broadcast of the Tony Awards from downtown. For that he could’ve kicked himself. However, it did have one benefit that he couldn’t have foreseen. He was too tired to be nervous.

“You ready to go?” Brody asked as Kurt passed by. His boss already had his fedora on and a lit cigarette between his lips.

“Uh huh. Dinner first or after?” Kurt queried, unsure of the protocol in situations like this.

“I could go for a burger,” Brody said amiably as he held the back door open for Kurt, and then Marley as she breezed past them both.

“Behave yourselves, boys,” she called out before hopping into a waiting car.

“You better,” Kurt cautioned as Brody grinned at him and winked.

“I said I would.” He flicked his dying smoke on the wet pavement and saluted him. “Scout’s honor.”

* * *

 

The building on East 48th Street seemed completely unassuming. The painted sign above the front door was the only clue to its purpose. Kurt was certain that not all branches of the YMCA were hotbeds of homosexual activity but, thanks to his two friends who worked at and frequented this particular branch, Kurt was aware there was more going on behind these closed doors than what was stated on the brochure.

He was ready to be introduced to the seamier side of life. Tonight he’d be a fly on the wall, observing but under no obligation to do anything he didn’t want to. Brody was to make sure of that. He would simply be his guide this evening, lifting the veil from this hidden world and letting Kurt quench the curiosity he’d been feeling for weeks. There was little doubt that Blaine was the cause. The way he looked at Kurt sparked a wildfire of lust inside him, and every touch of his warm hand fanned the flames of longing.

Kurt wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse that Blaine had been called away for another sojourn in Albany. Because when he was alone, Kurt felt bold. He wanted Blaine. Wanted to press him up against a wall and kiss him thoroughly, wanted to feel him, wanted to have Blaine’s hands on him. But each time Blaine was actually right in front of him, Kurt faltered at the start. His skin flushed bright red every time he spoke and he felt like the whole world was watching whenever he dared to gaze into Blaine's sun-kissed eyes. It was enough to drive a man mad.

To that end, Kurt was determined that tonight, the night before he and Blaine were due to celebrate his homecoming, he would rid himself of this abject timidity or else let his ridiculous blush burn so brightly that there’d be nothing left of him but cinders. So when Brody held the front door open and beckoned him forward, Kurt bolstered his courage and swept inside. He marched right up to the front desk and looked Chandler Kiehl right in the eye and said, “I’ve been under a lot of pressure lately, what would you recommend to let off some steam?”

To Chandler’s credit, he simply ginned and suggested a soak in the hot pool, then pointed the way to the locker room to change. Kurt headed off down the hall before his daring deserted him, leaving Brody to pay the small fee and collect the towels. Brody chuckled when he found Kurt lingering at the closed door to the locker room.

“Come on. There’s nothing in there that you haven’t already seen but stick with me,” he added and opened the door, letting Kurt follow in his wake.

The scent of damp laundry washed over him as Kurt trailed behind his boss. His eyes widened at the number of men who were in the midst of disrobing or nude and towelling themselves down while chatting with one another. Not since high school had he seen such a variety of male bodies, although there were more older men here than Kurt had seen bereft of clothes before. He counted several sagging buttocks, a number of bulbous stomachs, chests thick with greying hair, one or two faded tattoos, and more sets of dangling balls than he’d ever seen. He was so busy scanning everyone covertly that he walked straight into Brody’s back when he stopped outside his locker.

“Whoa! Okay, here. This is your locker today. If you’re finished checking the place out, get changed and I’ll take you to the pool.” Kurt stared at Brody as he shed his jacket and loosened his tie. His boss started to unbutton his shirt and smiled at Kurt’s dumbstruck expression. “You gonna go swimming with your clothes on?” Kurt looked at him blankly.

“I- I don’t have any t-trunks,” Kurt stammered out. Brody unbuckled his belt, popped the fly and let his trousers drop to the floor.

“Me either,” he said with a shrug, then kicked off his underwear and pulled his tank top over his head. Kurt quickly averted his eyes, giving his boss a little privacy, and caught two muscular guys from the corner of his eye. He watched as they followed each other into the showers, one slapping and grabbing at the other’s bare bottom playfully.

“You find something you like the look of?” Brody asked, sounding amused, and Kurt’s attention snapped back to him, standing there clad only in an open white terry-cloth robe. “We could wash up first, if you like? I’m sure they won’t mind us watching,” he added. Kurt swallowed hard and tried to remember how to breathe. He shook his head.

“Look, take these off,” Brody said gently, pulling Kurt’s tie loose and putting it on the locker’s shelf. “Don’t worry, you’ll fit right in.”

“A-are they looking?” Kurt whispered as Brody tugged his shirt free from his pants.

“Yes, of course they are. You’re new,” he said offhandedly and clarified when Kurt stared at him, bewildered. “They like that. Not to mention that you’re young, handsome and have a good set of shoulders on you.”

“I do?”

“You’re killing me, Kurt,” he said with a smile and turned back to his locker. “Which do you want? A towel or robe?”

Kurt took stock of the room once more. His boss was right; several men were blatantly eyeing him like a piece of steak. He took off his under shirt and before he could put it away, got an appreciative whistle. Kurt arched his eyebrow at Brody but he simply shrugged as if to say ‘I told you so’. Kurt smiled to himself and stood a little straighter, letting them see as he took off his slacks.

“Towel, please,” Kurt confirmed and wrapped the white towel snug around his waist before removing his underwear. He had to keep some of his decorum.  

“Look at that. What I would give…” Brody trailed off as he stared at large bellied man sitting on one of the benches taking a standing man’s dick into his mouth. Kurt’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Shit, he can really suck.” Brody’s hand disappeared behind his robe and Kurt wasn’t sure if he was supposed to watch him or not. He cleared his throat and crossed his arms, trying to catch a surreptitious glimpse of what his boss was doing.

“It’s okay. You can look. I don’t mind.” Kurt glanced up to catch Brody smirking at him.

“I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me,” he apologized.

“I said it was okay, Kurt,” Brody reiterated but stopped touching himself anyway. “Ready for the pool?”

“Alright.”

Kurt followed Brody out of the locker room and down several narrow halls until they came to a door with windows, and beyond that, a beckoning blue rectangular pool of steaming water. He watched as Brody dropped his robe unannounced and slipped into the water to sit on a submerged bench. Kurt quickly followed suit, leaving his towel behind and crouching down to hop into the warm pool.

There were less people in here. Three elderly men sat at the far end, their heads each tipped back against the ledge, making the most of their soak. To the right, a weedy young man splashed his even thinner playmate, who just laughed and pounced on him in revenge, and Kurt immediately felt more at ease being around people who were just enjoying each other’s company. He studied Brody, tracking the progress of a lazy droplet of water running down the center of his well defined chest.

“Why do you come here?” Kurt asked. Brody turned away from the cavorting boys and smiled.

“It’s easy,” he admitted. “I can be with anyone here and we both know what we’re getting out of it. No complications, no strings. Easy.” Kurt nodded and watched the way the water distorted his hands. “It may not suit someone like you but nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?”

Kurt tilted his head and asked, “What do you mean, ‘someone like me’?”

“You strike me as the type looking for love. Am I wrong?”

“No. I am,” Kurt confirmed as his fingers splashed in the water. “And you may be right but I suppose I came here to-”

“Learn?”

“Mmm, no, not like that. But yes, to know. My imagination is all I’ve ever had, but lately I’ve been feeling … that there’s more and I want...to explore that. I- I guess I just don’t know what more there is, but I want to.”

“Do you jerk off?”

Kurt flushed a deeper pink at Brody’s candour and rolled his eyes. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Do you wanna watch _me_ jerk off?” Kurt’s eyebrows shot upwards as his mouth dropped open in surprise. “I’ll take that as a no,” Brody said with a chuckle. “What about him?” He nodded towards a toned and slim middle aged man lowering himself into the pool and Kurt immediately spotted exactly who he meant from the crowd of newcomers.

“Nice thick cock,” Brody whispered appreciatively.

“Holy moly,” Kurt murmured, feeling himself get hard at the sight of the guy’s sizeable erection. “He’s huge,” he said with wide eyes, twisting away to hide his condition. Brody caught his arm.

“Wait, look.”

Kurt felt as though he was intruding, watching a young redhead about his own age swimming towards the hard-on like it was a beacon. The boy stood in the water and pushed the older man to sit on the pool side before settling on his knees on the submerged ledge. It was clear from where Brody and Kurt were seated that the redhead was gazing up at the fat shaft as if hypnotized, both his hands working it, up and down.

“Touch yourself. I dare you,” Brody whispered. “No one’s looking. All eyes are on them. Try it.” Kurt’s eyes darted to Brody’s hand which was wrapped around his own dick, pulling at it slowly. He furtively glanced around them. Brody was right. The new couple had everyone's attention.

Kurt watched the redhead lick along the hefty, veined cock and considered just how it would feel to be in his spot. His own dick throbbed in the warm water and, with a sideways glance to Brody, he gave in to temptation, taking himself in hand and stroking so quickly that his toes began to curl immediately.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down. You’re gonna blow a gasket,” Brody counselled quietly and tugged Kurt’s hand away.

“Look at how he’s sucking on that big fucking head. It’s so sensitive there,” his boss murmured. “Imagine what that feels like, having a tongue rub right there.” Kurt moaned and closed his eyes. His hips twitched up from their ledge a little, letting the water rush past his length. Even without the touch of his hand, he was still so close to losing control.

“They’re kissing now. That chickenhawk’s gonna swallow that kid whole.”

Kurt opened his eyes; the blurry sight of the older man’s large hands cupping the pale skin of the redhead’s ass cheeks was all he could see.

“There’s nothing like being swallowed down. It’s the best feeling in the whole goddamn world. His lips touching your skin while your deep in his throat, the scratch of his stubble on your balls. Fuck,” Brody’s breath hitched as he bucked up into his fist. “I’m gonna come,” he warned and swiftly climbed out of the water, stepping up onto the ledge and out of the pool altogether. Kurt watched him stumble towards the cart of dirty towels and tug until he rose up on his tiptoes and spilled onto one.

Fascinated, Kurt couldn’t keep his eyes off of his boss as he rode out his orgasm, then pulled on his robe and made his way back to the poolside. With his open robe hitched up, Brody sat down to let his legs dangle in the water, leaving his softening dick on display.

“You still with me?” he asked with an affable smile on his face, and Kurt looked up at him groggily and nodded. “I think we should hit the sauna. To extend your, uh, education.” Brody held out his hand and Kurt took it willingly, almost forgetting the towel he’d stripped off before. Kurt wrapped it back around his waist, trying to make it so that his erection wasn’t quite so obvious.

“Don’t worry, Kurt. You probably won’t have that for long,” Brody joked and pushed open the door to the hallway.

Kurt followed him but wondered if he meant the towel or his hard-on.

* * *

 

Blaine side eyed the young clerk at the front desk of the Y and wondered where Chandler had got to. He drummed his fingers on the counter and waited for the new boy to find a smaller robe, one that actually fit him. He raked his fingers through his hair in annoyance and huffed, clicking his tongue as he realized too late that he’d just messed up his gelled hair.

It was typical. Everything had gone wrong today. He was still hung over from trying to keep up with his old friends the night before. They’d played a practical joke on him after he’d hit the hay and hid his alarm clock, which meant that Blaine had been very late to his last day of work in the Albany office. Later, he was supposed to have taken the early train home, except his taxi had a flat tire and he missed it. Then, by the time he finally got to the station, the only place open that served any kind of food was a greasy spoon where the waitress couldn’t make a decent cup of coffee to save her life. But the final straw came once he’d boarded the train. Having fallen asleep somewhere outside of Hudson, Blaine had woken up hopeful they’d arrived at Grand Central Station. Unfortunately, it’d turned out that they’d been stopped in Poughkeepsie for two hours due to a line fault and that they were going be stuck there for another before they could move on.

Once finally home, he’d dumped his bag in his apartment, showered and headed to the Y. Blaine was hoping to shake off the stress of the day, and to exhaust the visceral urges he’d kept pent up all week, which had been entirely due to living in such close quarters with an old friend upstate. It wasn’t something he’d had to deal with in the past few years. Living alone had its perks, chief among them stress relief anytime or the day or night in the privacy of his own place. But recent clingy roommate aside, there was another reason that Blaine was wound so tight. He was going to see Kurt tomorrow, and he knew he needed to release that energy in order to retain his gentlemanly composure around his friend.

The new clerk finally gave a cry of triumph from inside the cupboard and reappeared with a fresh white towel and perfect size robe, and Blaine’s optimism for a productive evening grew. A quick visit to the locker room and he was ready for the steam room.

Untying his robe, Blaine took a seat along the bottom row on the far side of the dimly lit sauna and let the steam waft over his compact yet tight body. Only his towel preserved his modesty but he knew from past experience that its presence would be short lived. The sauna was already crowded with plenty of singles dotted across the three tiers of wooden benches all eyeing each other but seemingly waiting for something to happen. Blaine leaned forward and spooned a ladleful of water over the hot rocks and enjoyed the blast of heat that came with the cloud of steam while a [song drifted idly through his thoughts](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/92900272505).

As if on cue, one of the regulars, Ned, an older, heavy set and hairy fellow led a much younger lad that Blaine quickly recognized as Chandler into the steam room. Both were clad only in the ubiquitous white towels of the club as Ned led his partner by the hand to the top row. Space quickly cleared for them and Ned pulled Chandler down to sit on his lap. The door swung open once more as several others filed in, wanting to see the informal show that was about to begin. They filled the last empty seats and a few more lined the wooden slat walls but Blaine paid them no attention, keeping his eyes on Chandler whose smug smile widened at the sight of so many in attendance.

Ned’s experienced hands slid beneath Chandler’s towel and spread his legs wide. Gnarled fingers pulled at the boy’s balls and jerked him enthusiastically until he was completely hard. Chandler let out a dirty moan and tipped his head back as the towel was pulled away, revealing all of him to the crowd. Ned’s hands slid further south, cupping Chandler’s balls to keep them out of the way and worked a pair of fingers down to find his entrance.

Blaine squirmed on the wooden bench, not wanting to touch himself just yet. He distracted himself by checking out the small crowd around Ned and Chandler, watching their hidden hands as they stroked themselves beneath towels. He scanned the faces of those seated around him, his hazel eyes dark with intent, looking for a man eager to lend him a hand, or a mouth.

What he found were a pair of pale blue eyes staring back at him and Blaine smiled as he made out Jerry’s face in the gloom. Blaine's hand drifted to his crotch, rubbing over his cock beneath the towel once or twice. Jerry watched him closely; his eyes dragging down Blaine’s tanned body and back up again. He quirked his eyebrow and Blaine gave a small single nod in reply. Jerry quickly shifted to sit right beside him, blocking Blaine’s view of the door. The curly haired blond reached over and brushed his fingertips across Blaine’s stomach, following the trail of dark downy hair to his towel and beneath, working his way under the fabric until it came loose.

Jerry’s hand wrapped around his dick, pulling the towel away from his waist altogether. He had a firm grip and stroked him slowly until Blaine’s eyes fluttered closed. He leaned back on his hands and let Jerry touch him as he wished, not caring about anyone else watching. He just wanted to get lost in the sensations of the hand touching him, just for a moment. It could’ve been anyone’s hand on him, even Kurt’s. Suddenly the thought of his handsome friend jerking him off sent a wicked thrill coursing though his body. Blaine thrust up through Jerry’s fingers, wishing it was Kurt here with him in this moment, watching him come undone in a crowded room.

Trickles of sweat rolled down his chest as he began to pant, and Blaine felt his curls popping free from the Brylcreem at his temples. His body hummed fever hot beneath Jerry’s roaming hand and the lips sliding over his throat. He was positively aching to be kissed by the time their lips met.

The sounds in the room were indecent and exhilarating. Skin slapped against skin and all the while Chandler cried out to be fucked harder. It urged Blaine on; Ned’s heaving grunts and the panting coming from the crowd around them as they all gasped and sucked and kissed each other in a brazen display of arousal.

He thrust his hips up, desperate for Jerry to move faster, choking out a cry as Jerry’s mouth suddenly sunk over his cock and sucked him hard. Trembling with need, Blaine’s fingers tangled in the head of curls in his lap and he thrust upwards again and again, finally coating Jerry’s throat with his release.

* * *

 

Kurt trailed closely behind Brody, trying not to get lost in the swell of people that had all arrived at the sauna at the same time. As the door opened, the rising steam was blinding. He could barely make out the mess of skin and contorting bodies as Brody took his hand and pulled him to stand against wall by the door.

“No seats,” Brody remarked with a twist of his mouth. He leaned a shoulder against the wall and Kurt tucked himself in close behind, his chin hovering over Brody’s shoulder to see more clearly. “And there’s the reason. In all his glory,” his boss said, sounding amused as Kurt squinted into haze to find what he was referring to.

“Chandler!” he gasped, surging against Brody’s body.

“You know him?” His boss glanced back at him to gauge his reaction as Kurt nodded. “He likes to put on a show.”

Kurt’s gawked at the sight before his eyes. His young blond friend was bouncing in an old guy’s lap, completely uninhibited with his stiff pink dick waving about with every movement. Kurt’s brain overloaded as he took in the pair, realizing that Chandler was sitting on the older man’s thick shaft and that they both seemed to be enjoying themselves very much.

“You’re enjoying it too,” Brody mumbled casually, leaning back against him and pushing his bottom against Kurt’s hard length still trapped beneath his towel. Kurt’s breath stuttered as their bodies made contact. He shook his head, burying it against Brody’s shoulder as his face blazed with embarrassment. Brody sighed and stepped aside. He pulled Kurt into the space he’d left behind and slipped in behind him so they’d swapped positions.

“It’s okay,” he placated and wrapped his arm around Kurt’s midriff to hold him steady. “You’re allowed to look. You’re allowed to enjoy this.” He stood close behind Kurt but remained still. “Watch how he takes it.”

Kurt let out a long breath, letting himself watch Chandler be taken as Brody remained a comforting presence behind him. He looked on as Chandler was manhandled, being lifted off, spun around and pulled back into the old fellow’s lap.

“He’s got a fat one,” Brody whispered into Kurt’s ear. “He’s gonna fill your little friend up,” he said as a tease.

Kurt whimpered and shifted his weight on his feet. The throbbing of his dick was becoming overwhelming again but he couldn’t bring himself to touch, not in front of everyone. He watched in fascination as the old man held his dick up and Chandler spread his cheeks, and then speared himself on the shaft.

“Oh!” Kurt gasped, his breathing coming heavy and fast.

“He likes getting fucked like that, doesn’t he? Loves that we’re watching him.” Brody’s hand remained still around Kurt’s waist but Kurt found himself wanting it to move lower, to touch him. “Look at them all, Kurt. Watching your friend get fucked.” Brody referred to the tangle of men across the wooden benches. Hands and legs were spread everywhere he looked; some yielding to others as they used their mouths to kiss and suck while they kept an eye on Chandler and his partner. “Mm, look at those two.” Brody nudged him to watch a couple in the corner, one bent over the other’s back, humping each other like animals.

Kurt’s hand clutched at the towel tucked in at his waist. His thoughts wavered between wanting someone, anyone, to touch him, and being able to throw his towel off to do it himself. Behind him, Brody’s growing arousal pressed against him and Kurt’s sense of modesty slipped momentarily, letting his hand drop to squeeze his own length.

“Would you like it like that?” Brody asked him, still watching the pair in the corner as they grew louder, one slamming into the other. “Having someone take you hard like that? Pushing you down, making you his?” Kurt whined, pressing the heel of his hand against himself again. “Or do you wanna mount someone like that? Ride his ass until he comes? Hmm? Fill him up with your cock?” Kurt arched back against his boss, feeling Brody’s dick press against the curve of his ass.

“Oh god,” he murmured with a shake of his head, trying to make the sudden thoughts of Blaine under him, behind him, inside him flee. He squeezed his dick once more, feeling overcome as the dissipating steam curled around their bodies.

“Mm, maybe you just want a mouth on you. Licking you. Sucking you in,” Brody whispered. His breath was hot against Kurt’s neck. His free hand slid slowly down from Kurt’s shoulder, sweeping along Kurt’s forearm as he spoke until a sharp cry from the center of the room caught their attention and stilled his progress.

Chandler cried out again with a curse, leaning back with the old man’s broad hands supporting his hips. He let himself be driven onto the heavy cock several more times until his body went rigid and a fountain of come welled up between them. An orgiastic chain reaction flowed through the men surrounding the couple, as they spilled their seed over their stomachs.

Kurt swallowed hard, his body on the verge of surrendering to his most base desires, while the old man redoubled his efforts and used Chandler’s spent body. Several guys scrambled to stand over Kurt’s friend as he continued to get reamed, their hands pumping away as the old man bellowed and emptied himself inside Chandler. Each of the three men around them raced to come, one spurting across Chandler’s heaving chest and the others following suit soon after across his throat and face.

Brody’s hands pulled at Kurt’s waist, pushing him until his back was against the wall. His boss glanced down between them, looking at Kurt’s tented towel with a gleam in his eye.

“You gonna lose it?” Brody asked, licking his lips. Kurt looked at him though lazy hooded lids, his fingers spread against the smooth wall behind him. Brody stepped in closer and pressed a light kiss to Kurt’s cheek. “You could get your dick sucked. There’s plenty of takers.” Kurt’s eyes closed as the heat from the wall leeched into his skin. His body was on fire. “It’d feel so good, Kurt. Letting someone suck you. Mouth warm and wet. Tongue curling around you. Stroking you. Up and down.” Kurt whined. He wanted that. He wanted Blaine to do that. “You could control it. Moving his mouth over you. Taking you in. Taking you deep,” Brody's tone became husky as he stepped closer, a hair’s breadth away from pressing up against him.

Kurt’s eyes flickered open. The room was a hazy but over Brody’s shoulder was a face he recognized, and then a hand touched Kurt confidently, gripping his cock through his towel and Brody gasped. Kurt looked down and realized that the bronzed hands touching both his boss and himself belonged to the same person.

“Elliot,” Brody moaned.

Loose jet black hair spilled over Elliot’s face, changing his smirking expression from sly to cheeky. He nuzzled into Brody’s loose robe still hanging from his shoulders and squeezed both men again.

The back of Kurt’s head fell against the wall, his eyes rolling up at the cascading pleasure flowing through him. He would spill in his towel in public if he let this continue. His hand dropped to Elliot’s wrist and pushed ever so slightly, able to breathe a little easier when it fell away.

Brody whined at the loss of touch.

“Shh.” Elliot shifted him, moving Brody to line up against the wall next to Kurt, their shoulders overlapping when Elliot, naked as a jaybird, stepped in and pressed himself against Brody. Elliot mouthed across Brody’s collarbone but kept his dark blue eyes on Kurt’s, watching him intently. With a roguish glint in his eye, Elliot pressed his teeth into the shoulder before him and bit down, making Brody whimper as Elliot’s knee nudged between his thighs.

Brody clasped Kurt’s hand while Elliot cupped his jaw, preparing him for a kiss. Kurt stiffened and sniffed in a sharp breath as Elliot nipped at his lower lip.

“Easy, easy. He’s new,” Brody muttered, giving Elliot pause. He broke into a friendly smile, his hand brushing down Kurt’s chest, coming to rest at his waist.

“This okay?” Elliot tilted his head, waiting for Kurt’s answer while his thumb stroked against the soft skin just above the towel.

Kurt nodded. His face was aflame, unused to being this unclothed and intimate with other men. Elliot was tall, dark and looking devilishly handsome as his bare skin gleamed under the soft light of the sauna. Kurt wasn’t sure he wanted more but he also didn’t want to leave. His chest heaved at their closeness, bodies practically glued together as Elliot leaned in. He kissed along Kurt’s neck, his hand slipping around to stroke his fingertips along Kurt’s spine, and Kurt craned his neck to give him more room. He could hear himself panting, urgent high-pitched grunts spilling forth under each press of Elliot’s mouth to his skin. Next to him, Brody was moaning, his body bucking under Elliot’s other busy hand, and when Elliot’s mouth dragged up to Kurt’s earlobe, nipping with his teeth once more, Kurt nuzzled into his tanned neck and pressed a few clumsy kisses there.

“I was just saying-” Brody gasped at a particularly hard tug, “t-to…Oh! What it’s like to be blown. Yeah, there. Like that,” he muttered as Elliot’s hand stroked him expertly.

“Ooh. Lucky you.” Elliot raised his eyebrow to Kurt and looked him up and down. “You want me to?” Kurt’s eyes flickered over to Brody’s with a pointed look and Elliot took the hint. “Ah. You wanna watch.” He licked his lips. “I can dig that.” Elliot pressed in and snuck a single kiss from Kurt’s lips before doing the same to Brody and then sank to his knees.

Kurt watched, transfixed, at the way Elliot’s nails raked over the hair on Brody’s thighs. He stared at Elliot’s plump mouth opening while the cock in front of him was lowered, letting him take it in at an easier angle. Kurt swallowed down a whimper of want, his eyes flicking away for a second so he could get his bearings. Elliot’s hand drifted over the towel still precariously wrapped around Kurt’s waist, smoothing over the terry-cloth until he reached Kurt’s erection and brushed over it lightly. Kurt closed his eyes and took a deep breath, grounding himself, letting arousal swirl in his gut. He’d been so hard for so long. He glanced back to Elliot’s dark head of hair shifting as he bobbed over Brody's shaft. He longed for it to be Blaine in front of him, offering his mouth, wanting to take Kurt in that way.

Brody’s hand, still clutching his own, squeezed him hard as Elliot gorged himself, taking Brody all the way into his throat. Kurt shuddered out a shaky breath at the hand still caressing his hard-on and made a decision that if Elliot were to offer his mouth again, he wouldn’t refuse a second time. His dick throbbed at the thought of a tongue stroking him and he had to look away again to calm himself down.

He focused on the other side of the room. Bodies were still in motion as men touched each other. He spied another blow job in progress and fixed his gaze upon a curly haired blond leaning over to suck his partner dry. He watched the flex of the muscles in the blond’s back as he worked tirelessly, eventually making his partner’s head tip backward in obvious ecstasy. There was something familiar about him, Kurt realized. He studied his jaw line, trying to place him until he finally understood exactly who he was looking at.

Blaine!

Just as if he’d called his name out loud, Blaine straightened up and stared in his direction. 

Kurt’s mouth tumbled open wordlessly. He had no clue what to do or say and simply stared blankly while Elliot’s hand stroked him in full view of, not just the room, but in front of the man he’d just been thinking about.

Brody groaned out Kurt’s name long and low and below them, Elliot let the cock slip from his mouth and leaned in to rub his face against Kurt’s thigh.

Kurt froze, his gaze shifting to the man on his knees in front of him. He let out a trembling sigh as Elliot’s hands found his bare thighs beneath the towel and began to travel upward slowly.

“Still want to watch?” Elliot asked, staring up at him hungrily.

Kurt’s bottom lip wavered as fingertips swept over his inner thighs. He gasped out Elliot’s name and squeezed his eyes shut when he felt his towel give way from his waist and heard Brody moan next to him.

At the first gust of Elliot’s breath on him, Kurt’s eyes snapped open to search out Blaine. In that moment, he knew exactly what he wanted.

* * *

 

Blaine slumped back on his hands, dopey and loose, catching his breath until his wrists hurt with the way he was leaning back. He sat up straight and rolled his shoulders. That felt much better. He was already so much more relaxed. He smiled to himself and glanced across the room, catching on that there was a man on his knees, seemingly giving head to two men, one after the other. He watched for a moment, his eyes wandering over the trio and drifting up the palest and pinkest of the three bodies until he was staring straight at someone he knew.

_Kurt._

Blaine’s eyes widened in astonishment. Surely he was mistaken. But no, there was Kurt, looking stunned as a kneeling man switched from the other guy to him. The telltale flush of arousal was painted all over his friend’s skin and Blaine had to take a deep breath to stop himself from racing across the room to kiss him senseless.

Beside him, Jerry sat up and swung a leg over to straddle him.

“Fucking hot piece of ass,” Jerry mumbled in his ear as his ball sack dragged over Blaine's stomach and stole his attention away from Kurt. “You taste so good. Christ. Taste it,” he demanded and licked into Blaine's mouth, moaning as he wrapped his hand around his own cock. Blaine groaned into the messy kiss, tasting himself on Jerry's tongue, while the swollen head of Jerry’s shaft slid over his sweat-slick skin. He wondered if Kurt was watching them as someone else kissed his cock. He had to find out. He had to look.

“You gonna taste it?” Jerry asked, rutting against him deliberately, blocking Blaine’s view of his friend. Still in a daze, Blaine nodded dumbly. “I wanna fuck you again. Fuck you all over the shitty little apartment of yours. You want it, Blaine? You want it?” Jerry grunted and heaved himself up, aiming his dick at Blaine's face.

Blaine supposed it’d be terribly rude to knock Jerry aside to find where Kurt was. He mused over what Kurt would look like as he came while getting blown but his fantasy was quickly disrupted as the cock bumping against his lips smeared goo across them.

“C’mon, baby. Open up for me,” Jerry mumbled, jerking himself off against Blaine's mouth.

Blaine's lips opened in time to catch the first spurt on his tongue. He gripped at the blond’s slim hips to hold him still as he took the pulsing tip into his mouth and sucked him hard and fast until he was done. Jerry’s thighs widened as he slid back down and slumped against him. Blaine stretched his neck to the side to get a look across the room. He had to find Kurt. He searched along the wall where he’d last seen him but only found the other two brunets.

Jerry tried to lean in and kiss him but Blaine pushed him aside brusquely. He couldn’t see his friend. He had to see him. He needed to find him.

“Hey!” Jerry grumbled as Blaine slipped away from him and tied his robe closed.

Where could Kurt be?

* * *

 

Kurt pushed his way out of the room, the heat choking him, making him dizzy.

He could still feel Elliot’s lips as they’d mouthed at his balls.  He blanched at the way he had just treated Brody's friend, pushing him off like that. It wasn’t even Elliot’s fault. If only he hadn’t seen Blaine. Kurt could have enjoyed his first time in a man's mouth if it wasn’t for the fact that the man he’d been crushing on for weeks was giving the exact same treatment to someone else, at the same time, when all Kurt wanted was Blaine all to himself. He’d been two steps across the room when the blond with Blaine had climbed over him, ass jiggling as his hips pumped his cock into Blaine's mouth.

Kurt had been so confident in what he’d wanted in that moment but now it was truly shaken. Here he’d been thinking that Blaine had wanted him just as much. How wrong he was, Kurt realized. It was clear he was only after a good time.

Kurt shoved at the locker room door and ripped his towel away from his flagging hard-on, not giving a damn about propriety anymore. His locker banged open and he ignored the stares of the handful of men in the room as he reached in for his clothes, pulling them on in haste. He had to get out of here. He needed time to think, time alone, time without moaning and hushed cursing going on in the background.

The chill of the night washed over him as he stumbled out onto East 48th Street, and he pulled in a lungful of fresh air, grateful to be away from everything he’d seen. He buttoned up his coat and made off into the night, hurrying toward the subway station.

He had to get home.

* * *

 

Blaine rushed past Kurt’s pals where they were pressed up against one another, grinding and kissing. Kurt was nowhere to be seen.

He made it out to the hall, slipping and stumbling towards the locker room. If he was lucky, Kurt would be there or in the showers.

By the time he got there, his heart was racing. Aside from a tattooed marine jerking off in the shower, the place was empty.

The pool, he thought suddenly. The locker room door thudded open, hitting the hall wall as Blaine burst through it determinedly. His brain was racing. It could only mean something bad if Kurt had up and left like that. He hardly seemed the type to come and run, not that Kurt’s friends had seemed perturbed about the situation. 

Blaine hurried past the door leading to the reception area, only to skid to a stop. The front desk. They would have seen him if he’d left.

“H-Hi!” Blaine called out, getting the attention of the young clerk. “Did a guy just come past here? Uh, five ten. Brown hair. Big blue eyes?”

The clerk looked at him like he was crazy. “You wanna be more specific?”

“Maybe he was upset? Um…slim, killer cheek bones, upswept nose? No?”

“Sorry,” the clerk shrugged helplessly.

Blaine glanced at the front door and started toward it.

“Hey! You can’t go out there like that! You’ll get us all in trouble!”

Blaine spun around in confusion, looking at the clerk who was pointing out that he was still naked under a short robe. For a split second, he was willing to make a break for it. Decency be damned and all that. But his common sense prevailed and he sighed in defeat, trudging off to get changed.

Okay, so maybe Kurt wasn’t upset. Maybe he was that kind of guy after all.

Blaine shook his head to clear his thoughts as he showered. He was so confused.

It didn’t make any sense. He’d seemed so naïve when they’d first met and yet here he was, at a well known cruising spot, in what looked like the beginnings of a threesome.

Could it have been an act?

* * *

 

Kurt kept his head down as he got off the train and headed for his street, thankful not to run into anyone else he knew. The train ride home had been treacherous. He’d tried to distract himself by [humming something](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/92900355380/musicofthewastes-bye-bye-blackbird-by-peggy-lee) slow and sombre but images of Blaine’s nude body were haunting him, keeping him hard and restless. He kept picturing the way Blaine’s chest heaved and the shape of his throat when he’d leaned back to come. It was driving him crazy.

He shoved his key into his apartment door and closed it behind him, barely getting his coat off as his trembling hands fumbled with his fly.

Kurt pulled his revived erection from his trousers and moaned as he got a hand to himself, stroking hard and fast. His head thumped back against the door as his hips surged forward, pushing his cock through his fist faster and faster.

“ _Blaine_ ,” he moaned into the dark apartment as his hips stuttered and he spilled over top of his hand.

Later, as Kurt lay in bed, freshly bathed and in warm pajamas, he worried about how he was going to face Blaine tomorrow. There was still the matter of a celebratory dinner to be had. He wondered how on earth he was ever going to look Blaine in the eye after what had happened tonight. He questioned whether he’d be so impertinent as to cancel.

No. He dismissed the thought immediately. He’d simply have to forget what Blaine looked like.

Naked. Glistening. Gorgeous.

Kurt’s cock throbbed with sudden desire and he groaned. Not again.

He closed his eyes and recalled the memory of Blaine’s muscled thighs, his hips bucking and Adam’s apple bobbing convulsively surrounded by writhing bodies at the club. Kurt gripped himself tighter and tried to think of them together, in private. He pulled at his balls, imagining that it’d been Blaine on his knees instead of Elliot tonight. Blaine’s tongue warm, dragging, tasting him. Those pinked lips plush and open wide as Blaine sucked on his sac.  Kurt would watch him then, the bow of Blaine’s strong shoulders, the flex of his hands on Kurt’s thighs, those thumbs pressing into his skin, making his mark on Kurt.

Indelible. Secret. Something they would only share with each other.

“Oh!” Kurt gasped out, and stroked himself to completion across his stomach. As he lay there drifting toward sleep, he made a wish that one day he would have that with someone he loved. If only it were Blaine.

* * *

 

Blaine woke up bleary eyed on Thursday morning. Sleep had been a long time coming last night and what little he got had been fitful at best.

He’d spent hours thinking in circles, wracking his brain as to how to handle seeing Kurt over dinner. He hated not knowing how to deal with this or even if there was anything to deal with. On one hand, Kurt might never want to see him again, but on the other, maybe it wouldn’t even come up, but on the other hand, maybe it would lead them straight into bed. Blaine shook his head. People didn’t have three hands he reminded himself and rubbed at his temples. It was going to be a long day.

He staggered to the bathroom and searched the cupboard for some aspirin to ease his newly born headache.

He just needed to get through work and then he would see Kurt and know, one way or another, exactly how to handle this.

Blaine swallowed a couple of pills down and prayed that his first day back at the library would be uneventful.

* * *

 

The diner’s [jukebox changed tracks](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/92907458915/0x101-i-walk-around-heavy-hearted-and-sad) and Hunter grinned at his reflection in the coffee shop’s plate glass window. Today was the day. That little upstart was going down. Whether it was at work or at home with his little friend - Hunter didn’t care which betrayal wrecked Blaine more. He’d be satisfied just to see the look on Blaine’s face once the kid had figured out exactly what Hunter had done.

However, Blaine had looked a little peaky all morning, and in an effort to keep his plan from falling short at the last hurdle, Hunter forced himself to provide a little charity to the kid by picking up lunch. He had to make sure Blaine was on his feet again this afternoon. Then he’d knock the twerp right back on his keister.

Back a few minutes later, Hunter presented a sandwich to his tired looking colleague and slid the piping hot coffee across the lunch room table.

“Oh my gosh? Thank you!” Blaine burbled as he opened his eyes to how generous Hunter had been.

“You’re welcome,” Hunter said magnanimously.

“You know, you’re a good guy, Hunter,” Blaine said with a nod as he dug his sandwich out of the paper bag. “An honest-to-goodness swell guy.”

“Uh huh.” Hunter pursed his lips and simply took a swig of his spiked coffee. Now it was only a matter of time - a few measly hours at most. Soon enough, Blaine Anderson would be ruined and it would be Hunter’s shining glory.

He waited patiently. He listened to the kid ramble on about a dinner he was supposed to go to with that flaky fairy. He even helped the pipsqueak out with his filing, just to make sure his desk would be clear when Hunter needed it to be.

Adam checked in on the pair one last time before he skipped off early for the day, as was usual for a Thursday. He’d been having an affair with someone from the second floor - or so Hunter had heard from the guard that he had in his pocket. He’d yet to catch his boss in the act. Hunter scratched his chin ruefully. If he’d managed to do that earlier, he probably would’ve been promoted by now and this plan with Blaine would be redundant. Hunter shrugged and checked the clock once more - an hour to go - the time was finally right.

Hunter put away his official date stamp and ink pad, locking them away in the top drawer as he did every night. From the bottom drawer he brought out his completed patent form, attached drawings and a signed check for thirty dollars. He pushed his seat back and stood up, deliberately taking the time to stretch and check on the other officers who were busy at their desks down at the other end of the room. He took a deep breath and swallowed down the cackling laugh that was threatening to burst free. Purposefully, he walked around to the front of Blaine’s half of the desk and sat in the chair, waiting to be noticed.

Blaine busily attached sheets of paper together with his stupid paper clips, his eyes flickering up for a fleeting moment to see who was waiting for him. His double take almost made Hunter laugh, but once again, he forced it down. Instead, he cleared his throat and continued to wait.

“Hunter?” Blaine asked uncertainly.

“I _need_ you.” Hunter smirked when the kid’s face morphed into surprise as he blinked furiously. “In your official capacity,” Hunter added. Blaine’s mouth formed a soft ‘o’ and he composed himself immediately, sitting up a little straighter and giving Hunter his full attention - just as he ought to.

Hunter watched Blaine’s eyes focus on the paperwork as it was slid onto his desk.

“What’s this?” Blaine inquired, his dark triangular eyebrows contorting themselves high on his brow as he reached out to pick the file up.

“It’s a little something I’ve been working on. A side project, if you will,” Hunter gloated. He crossed his legs and laced his fingers together, leaning back in the chair.

Blaine nodded, looking impressed as he eyed Hunter once more and then settled back to read through the application.

Hunter waited for the penny to drop. This was going to be his very favorite part, he could tell.

“What-? Is-Is this a joke? Something for April Fool’s?” Blaine frowned; his eyes scanned the page and flipped to the next in a rush. “What the-” His head jerked up, eyes blazing, and he tossed the paperwork onto the desktop in disgust.

A jolt of delightful wickedness ran though Hunter as he catalogued every one of Blaine’s reactions. This is what he’d been waiting for.

“What is this!” Blaine demanded. He looked as frightening as wet noodle and Hunter had to square his jaw in order not to laugh madly. Instead he watched his own thumbs as they lazily spun around each other in his lap and slowly raised his gaze until he was looking Blaine dead in the eye.

“Is there a problem?”

Blaine’s mouth fell open. His eyes darted to the side, ensuring they were alone.

“You know there is!” he whispered furiously.

Hunter craned his neck, pretending to check the paperwork from a distance and smirking as he leaned back leisurely.

“It looks perfectly in order to me.” He eyed Blaine coolly, wondering if he was about to make a scene. That really would be the icing on the cake.

“What are you talking about?” Blaine whined pitifully. “This isn’t your work!” The kid grabbed at the papers, crinkling them, and shook them in Hunter’s direction.

“I think you’ll find you have everything there to prove that it is.” Hunter had gone through it all with a fine tooth comb, making sure to remove all items bearing Kurt’s name. He’d even re-drawn the designs in his own hand - with a little help from a piece of tracing paper. There was no way Blaine could refute him on this.

“This is absurd!” The corner of Hunter’s mouth quirked in a wry smile as Blaine blustered, suddenly red faced. “What do you think you’re playing at!”

Hunter regarded him disdainfully and pursed his lips in faux thought. He made sure to enunciate each syllable as he instructed Blaine in exactly what he had to do. 

“Sign it. Stamp it. Give me the receipt,” he said callously. This was taking far too long. Although he enjoyed watching Blaine squirm, Hunter wanted to be done with this before something could go wrong.

The kid’s eye’s followed his fingers as he checked each box on the form for the right detail. He stopped at the signed declaration and glowered at Hunter momentarily before continuing to flip over the page and check the rest of it. Lastly, Blaine picked up his check and examined it closely. Perhaps he was looking for forgery there too, and Hunter bit the inside of his cheek to stop his mirth from showing.

Opposite him, Blaine’s face screwed up in anguish before he got control of himself. He glared at Hunter’s application for a few more seconds and then huffed, his shoulders dropping in defeat. Hunter bit back a grin. He had known it would be this easy. Blaine would do his job.

With shaking hands, Blaine wrote out a receipt from his small book and slowly tore it away from its carbon copy.

“Sign the form,” Hunter added coldly as the kid’s pen dithered in his hand. Blaine looked up at him, glassy eyed and pathetic. “Sign it.” Hunter shoved the form closer to make his point.

Blaine shook his head while still looking at the papers, his jaw grinding with resolve.

“I-I can’t,” he stuttered.

Hunter took a modicum of pity upon the wretch and decided to play this a different way, his tone of voice changing to dangerously smooth.

“Sure you can. You’re just … doing your job, right?” Blaine’s hand shifted to hover over the signature line as Hunter continued his sweet talking. “This is a piece of cake. A good kid like you knows how important it is to do his job well.” Blaine sniffed. “C’mon…you sign off on these things every day. Just … do this for me, now.”

“This isn’t right,” Blaine whispered. He couldn’t bring himself to look Hunter in the eye.

“Do it,” Hunter demanded as he remained deadly calm.

“I can’t!” Blaine insisted and choked up.

“You _can_ and you will.”

Blaine shook his head stubbornly. “I won’t take this away from him!”

“Listen here, you snot nosed runt!” Hunter growled at him cruelly, losing his cool all of a sudden. “You’ve _already_ broken the rules for him.” Blaine's eyes widened at the revelation.

“Yeah, don’t think I haven’t seen that form you’ve got stashed away in there,” Hunter’s head jerked toward the desk drawers. “Who’s to say that he’s not the one who stole this design, huh? And you’re in on it with him.” Blaine looked horrified and shook his head adamantly.

“No! That’s not-”

“Oh yes! That's _exactly_ what it looks like. Why else would you have filled everything out and yet kept it a secret?” Hunter gasped in mock horror. “This was your idea, wasn’t it? To get back at me. I can’t believe you would do this to me!”

“What?” Blaine looked dumfounded. “I-I- No! I don’t-”

“Don’t _make me_ go to Adam and turn you in, you little punk. I’ll show him the form. I will! I’ll show him exactly what a disappointment you are. He’s a fool to have trusted you. You’re supposed be Mister Big Shot, telling us how to do our jobs, and yet here you are taking shortcuts and breaking the rules because you think you’re better than the rest of us? You’re nothing but a disgrace to this goddamn office, Blaine! If I go to Adam, not only will you lose your job - you’ll lose your reputation too! Is that what you want? Is it?!”

“But-”

“Do your damn job, Blaine. Just do it!”

Blaine startled from his befuddled reverie and scribbled his signature in a flurry.

“Stamp!” Hunter ordered.

Blaine’s fingers fiddled with the ink pad, struggling to get the metal lid to flip open.

“Hurry up before I change my mind!”

Blaine checked the numbers on his stamp, fiddling with one number to get it back into alignment and then pushed it down solidly on the black ink pad. He shot a final wounded look at Hunter as he positioned it over the form.

“Don’t make me regret this,” Hunter warned when Blaine hesitated. “I’m giving you a chance here. Don’t mess it up.”

The solid _thunk_ of the stamp as Blaine banged it down on the application was the final nail in the kid’s coffin and Hunter’s face broke into a beatific smile.

“You’ve done the right thing, kid,” Hunter reassured as the kid’s eyes fell shut with a heavy sigh.

Hunter quickly gathered up his receipt for the money and the carbon copy of his signed form. He jumped to his feet and folded the papers together, hastily shoving them in his jacket pocket. He stepped back and took a long last look at his forlorn co-worker who was still shaking his head in defeat.

“I’ll let you clean up your mess,” he said and headed for the elevator, waiting until the doors closed before he pumped his fist in celebration. That had turned out better than he’d hoped for.

He patted his pocket and broke out into one of the tunes Blaine was always whistling. This was cause to celebrate. With this sort of luck on his side, Hunter couldn’t bear to think of it going to waste. He mulled over his connections and decided which backroom game he’d hit up tonight. Finally things were going his way.

* * *

 


	6. Chapter 5  1948

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bless my beta, manningstar, and the lovely artist, abritincanadatwo.

* * *

 

“’Night, Blaine,” Clark shouted while heading for the elevator, flipping his hat onto his balding head.

“Wow,” Seth said, seeing Blaine looking miserable. He rapped his knuckles on Blaine’s desk on his way past. “It’s not so bad.” He didn’t pause, simply calling out as he broke into a jog when the lift doors opened. “It’s Friday tomorrow!” he hollered cheerfully.

“Yeah, yeah,” Blaine muttered and waved in their direction. As soon as the elevator doors shut, he slid his head into his hands, shut his eyes and groaned in despair. This day was turning out to be even more awful than he’d anticipated and he hadn’t even seen Kurt yet to discuss last night.

He stared at the desk and considered all the ways he’d screwed everything up. Hunter was right. Blaine could lose everything he’d worked so hard for and everything Kurt had been working toward too. He could imagine Adam yelling at him, throwing the book at him. But that sting paled in comparison to pain he’d caused Kurt. His friend would be devastated that Blaine had let him down like this. That Blaine had allowed his idea to be stolen. It would be the end for them, Blaine was sure of it. Their friendship, and any hope of something more, would go up in smoke.

Blaine hated that he was the reason his friend was in this position in the first place. He should have ripped up that form the very first day and been done with it. Then Hunter would never have been able to take advantage like this.

His fingers dug into his scalp as his mind raced with how he could redeem himself. He couldn’t let Hunter to do this to Kurt. Blaine's hand slammed his desk in desperation. He had to do something. Was he going to stand idly by and let Hunter win? To destroy the future of someone who had become precious to him?

“Like hell!” Blaine growled with determination as he decided on the next steps in his tenuous plan. It might not be too late to salvage everything. 

Kurt. He had to talk to Kurt immediately.

Blaine was up and out of his chair in a flash. He threw on his overcoat, stuffed his hat on and pulled Kurt’s application form out. He bit his lip as he gave it another once over. What he was considering wasn’t just a blatant breach of USPTO etiquette, it was illegal. Yet it seemed like it was exactly the right thing to do.

He cast a glance around the deserted office and put the things he needed into his coat pockets. He’d only have one shot at this and, as Blaine rushed down the stairs nimbly, he prayed that Kurt would share his resolve.

* * *

 

“Kurt!” Blaine pulled himself up from his seat on the chilly hall floor. He’d been waiting an hour for Kurt to make his way home. In that time he’d listened to the [neighbor’s selection of 78’s](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/92965882075/vera-lynn-i-couldnt-sleep-a-wink-last-night) and mulled over the scheme he was about to put to his friend. He’d had to put aside all thoughts of last night. That was the least of his concerns, for the moment, especially when the very future of their friendship was dangling by a thread.

“Blaine?” Kurt frowned at him. “What-? What are you doing here? I thought we were meeting at the restaurant?”

“Forget about that,” Blaine rushed out, trying not to focus on Kurt’s pout. “I need to talk to you about the patent.” He had to clue Kurt in to Hunter’s plan.

Kurt rolled his eyes and slotted his key into his apartment’s lock. “There is no patent, Blaine,” he huffed out and shouldered open the sticky door. “How long have you been waiting out here? You look a little pale.” Kurt discarded his satchel and unbuttoned his pea coat.

Blaine shut the door behind him and watched Kurt putter about, filling the kettle and putting it on to boil.

“An hour? Look, that’s not important.” Blaine followed Kurt’s example and shed his overcoat. “Something happened-”

Kurt froze and the teaspoon he was holding clattered into the cup. Blaine pressed on through the sudden awkward silence, ignoring Kurt’s assumption that this was about the night before.

“At work. Something happened at work today and it’s – It’s gonna ruin any chance you have of your patent ever going through.”

Kurt turned and leaned against the counter, frowning. “Go on.”

Blaine carelessly dropped his application pad onto Kurt’s tiny kitchen table with a thump and with it, himself into a chair. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to get a collect his thoughts.

“You remember that I kept your form?” he asked as Kurt nodded. “Well, that was a mistake – on my part. It’s against the office’s rules, and no doubt for this very reason. What was I thinking?” Blaine rambled to himself and covered his face with his hands, shaking his head in shame.

Kurt gracefully lowered himself onto the only other dining chair and tugged at Blaine’s wrists.

“Talk to me, please,” Kurt said somberly.

“It’s Hunter.” Blaine let his hands be pulled away, leaving them covered with Kurt’s on the table top. “He- He saw me hiding away your application and he’s-”, Blaine licked his lower lip nervously. “God, Kurt. I am so _sorry_.” He took a deep breath and barreled through with the news. “He’s taken your design and he’s claimed it as his own. He- I-I had to sign off on it this afternoon.” Blaine grimaced as Kurt squeezed his hands forcefully.

“What?” Kurt’s eyelashes fluttered and Blaine wanted to do nothing more in that moment than to reach for him and hold him close, but the shock on Kurt’s face quickly transformed into fury, forcing him to his feet. “He can’t do that! He can’t! He can’t- He’s a thief!” Kurt cried out as he paced back and forth. “That rotten bastard!” he spat out.

Kurt continued to mutter a few curses that made Blaine’s hair curl while he re-traced his steps over and over again. Blaine was at a loss what to do. His friend was unraveling before his eyes, lost to rage. He was utterly grateful for the distraction when the kettle started to boil.

Blaine eased his way past Kurt who was twisting a throw pillow in his hands and grumbling to himself. Blaine sighed in resignation. He couldn’t blame his friend for wanting to throttle him. He rummaged in the kitchen cabinets and found a pair of cups, the sugar and a tin of 8 O’Clock Coffee. He made two strong cups of sweet coffee, one black for himself and the other with milk for Kurt.

“Here,” Blaine said quietly as he set the cups on the table and re-took his seat. Kurt sighed and tossed the wrinkled throw pillow towards the sofa.

“What are we gonna do?” Kurt lamented, staring into his drink before taking a sip. “Ugh!” He stuck out his tongue and screwed up his face.

“Sugar’s supposed to help with shock,” Blaine said defensively. He held his own steaming cup between his hands and closed his eyes, taking a sip. His eyes shot open. He bared his teeth in a grimace and barely swallowed down the overly sweet concoction. “I might’ve overdone it,” he admitted quietly, feeling brittle and completely useless.

Kurt hiccupped a laugh, his cup banging against the table as he set it down. “It’s awful,” he agreed and shot him a commiserating smile. Blaine considered the depths of his own drink and chuckled.

“It really is.” He looked at Kurt and tentatively smiled back, searching for blame behind those rain wild eyes but finding only compassion. They held each other's gaze for a quiet moment as their mouths turned up into easy grins.

“I have a plan,” Blaine confessed. Kurt leaned forward, intrigued.

“Before I stamped his application, I changed the date – to tomorrow,” he explained and Kurt’s eyebrow arched.

“Tell me more,” Kurt encouraged.

“I brought your application, his one and a blank one with me.” Blaine motioned to the pad in front of him and pulled the folded copy of Hunter’s forms from his pants pocket. “And his receipt for monies paid.” Kurt frowned in confusion.

“I-I don’t understand.”

“Here’s the blank form. See the number at the top?” Blaine indicated the number in bold at the top right of the form: US2443219.  He then pulled out the copy of Hunter’s receipt and pointed to the line itemizing what the receipt had been for.

“Application for Patent # US2443219…” Kurt read aloud. “Oh! He’s paid for a blank application!”

Blaine grinned. “Exactly.” He waggled his eyebrows before getting up and going for his coat that had been laid over the back of the sofa.

“Wait…Let me get this straight,” Kurt fussed with the papers in front of him. “This is Hunter’s application – with tomorrow’s date stamped on it. This is Hunter’s receipt – for a blank application. And this is a blank application – that’s been paid for but hasn’t been stamped.”

“And this is my stamp,” Blaine said smugly as he returned and laid his official date stamp and ink pad on the table.

“Blaine Anderson,” Kurt breathed out admiringly. “Do you mean to tell me that we’re going to steal his money?”

Blaine faltered.

“Uh, it’s actually more serious than that.” He fiddled with the date stamp, changing the number back to today’s date. “It’ll be fraud,” he admitted and slumped back in his chair with a sigh. “I’m surprised Hunter didn’t even look at his receipt.” Kurt shrugged, leaving Blaine to spell it out for him. “So yes, we’re appropriating his money to pay for your application but by signing off on this outside of hours _and_ outside an official PTO and then sneaking it _back_ into their records…it’s fraud.”

“But you’re an official agent and it’s _still_ today. And Hunter stole my idea first! Shouldn’t that count for something?” Kurt contended.

 “No? I’m pretty sure there isn’t a ‘two wrongs make a right’ defense.” He held up his hands in surrender when Kurt sucked in a sharp breath and readied himself for an argument. “Look, I’m not trying to dissuade you, Kurt. I just want you to understand what you- no, _we’re_ getting ourselves into here. Okay?” Kurt nodded.

“Okay.”

“You still want to-?”

“Absolutely!” Kurt said so quickly that it made Blaine drop his head and laugh to himself.

“Complete this and sign here please,” Blaine said as he marked the applicant’s signature line with a tiny cross, then handed Kurt the pen and spun the form around.  He lined up Kurt’s original form next to it and then waited for his friend to fill everything out all over again.

It was the easiest way, he’d decided earlier. Otherwise the original form would have a February date and an April stamp, and that would be spotted in no time flat by Adam and his accountants. This way, everything would be in order with the application. It would just be a copy of the receipt that would be on file, seeing as Hunter had the original. There was a risk, of course. The copy of the receipt could be flagged before the patent was researched or issued. There was Hunter to consider also. Blaine wasn’t sure what plans his colleague had for the patent or whether Hunter would simply back down once he’d realized that Kurt had gotten in before him. But there was nothing Blaine could do about that now. He’d had already broken the rules; what was one more if it meant that Kurt’s dreams came true and Hunter’s fell apart?

Blaine readied the date stamp. He checked the numbers then flipped the metal lid of the ink pad open and inked up.

“Done,” Kurt confirmed with a nod and turned the form back to Blaine for him to counter-sign and date. With a final flourish on the paper, Blaine laid down the pen and picked up the stamp, punching it down on the application with authority.

“There,” Blaine sighed and stared down at the newly inked date: 04 01 1948. “It’s official. Congratulations, Mr. Hummel. You have lodged your patent application with the USPTO.”

“I have?” Kurt asked excitedly.

“Let me be the first to shake your hand.” Blaine stuck out his hand and grinned at his friend’s beaming face. Kurt shook it readily then seemed to think the better of it.

“Forget this,” he said with a laugh and dropped Blaine's hand, pulling him up for an enthusiastic hug instead. Blaine smiled into the crook of Kurt’s neck and squeezed him tight. After the longest twenty-four hours of his life, he was happy to finally relax and breathe Kurt in. Blaine’s eyes dropped shut and he nuzzled into the warm skin above his friend’s collar. He hummed with satisfaction and tried to anticipate when Kurt would pull away, wanting to wait until the last second to lose this feeling of fulfilment.  When Kurt’s arms finally retreated and he’d taken half a step back, Blaine let his hands fall to his friend’s waist.

Kurt’s eyes darted away and the lightest of blushes painted his cheeks but he didn’t pull back any further. Blaine licked his lips and watched him closely.

Maybe he should bring up last night. Or maybe he should use his mouth in other ways.

Blaine's eyes dropped to Kurt’s lips.  He was dying to kiss him.

“Are-are you going to take the forms in tomorrow?” Kurt asked with his voice high and breathy.

Blaine longed to say yes. He wanted to sweep Kurt up in his arms and lose himself in a kiss. But as much as he hated to admit it, he needed to get the paperwork back into the office tonight. There’d be too many people to avoid in the morning. If he left now, he could pass his presence off as having forgotten something.

“No, I’d better do it now - less chance of anything going wrong.” Blaine stepped back and started to gather all the paperwork together, remembering to separate out Hunter’s forms from Kurt’s new ones.

“Oh.”

Blaine’s stomach flipped at Kurt’s disappointed tone. Kurt wanted him to stay. He hadn’t ruined anything between them after all. But he had to get the files back tonight. After that there’d be plenty of time to address what they’d left unsaid.

“Rain check?” Blaine asked hopefully. It was Thursday night. They had all weekend to see each other again.

“Rain check,” Kurt confirmed definitively.

* * *

 

“Hey kiddo! This is a surprise.” Kurt smiled at his father’s understandable reaction, having called quite early on Friday morning.

He was still on a high from the night before, having leaped about with joy in his apartment once Blaine had left. His application was as good as filed, and Hunter, that rat bastard, wouldn’t see a dime from his design.

Blaine had officially become his knight in shining armor by giving him his ambition back and Kurt hoped that he could think of an appropriate way to repay him, other than a dreamy hug. But until then, he had to get on with the plans he’d made with his dad before everything had fallen apart in February.

As soon as he’d woken this morning, his first thought had been to get back to the Exchange and make the call home. Thankfully Marley had been one of the four operators rostered on, and was willing to keep an eye out while he broke the good news to his father using her station.

“I know but something’s happened...” he teased his dad.

“Everything okay?” Burt asked warily.

“Better than okay. It’s fantastic!” Kurt paused for dramatic effect. “I got the patent application in!” he rushed out.

Burt whistled in awe. “That’s great, Kurt. But I thought you were short?”

“A friend came through for me,” Kurt confirmed, not want to give away Hunter’s involvement or the methods that he and Blaine had resorted to.

“Oh?”

“He’s really wonderful,” Kurt gushed as he thought of the way Blaine had felt in his arms the night before.

“ _Oh_ ,” Burt said knowingly.

“Not like that!” Kurt blustered, a blush rising to his cheeks. “We’re _just friends_ , dad.” Kurt heaved a sigh. It was reassuring that his father was supportive of him, not that they’d discussed it at any length, but sometimes Kurt wondered if his father thought he’d moved to the city to partake in orgies every other night.

“Right, right.” Burt chuckled which made Kurt smile. He knew his dad was only teasing. “So we’re ready to hit the gas on this thing?

“Yes!” Kurt clapped enthusiastically, getting the attention of Marley who was loitering at the end of the row. He winked in her direction and got a thumbs-up in return.

“Okay, well...my guy in Findlay can help us out, getting a set of working prototypes done.” Kurt hummed his agreement as Burt continued. “You know, you could take some vacation days, kid. This guy, Frank, he used to work over at Cooper Tire & Rubber. He reckons you’ve got a shot at getting them to sell your design.” Kurt squeaked in anticipation. “And...he has a contact at Peerless over in Minnesota. It’d be worth calling on ‘em and seeing if they want in too.”

“Really?” Kurt breathed out excitedly. This could be the start of something huge. His throat closed up at the prospect of achieving a level of success he’d barely dreamed of.

“Yes, really. So, you’ll come visit your old man, right?” Burt pressed for an answer gently. Kurt nodded to himself and responded quietly.

“Yeah, yes, okay. I’ll talk to Mr. Weston and see if I can get some time off.”

“That’s the way. You just wait, Kurt. Everything’s gonna come up roses.”

Kurt chuckled wetly and replied with a grin. “You mean, everything’s coming up Hummel.”

“You know it, kiddo.”

* * *

 

Kurt fussed over the spread of roasted meat, vegetables and bread rolls in his tiny kitchenette-slash-dining room while Blaine hung his coat and hat. A final nudge to the gravy boat was all he could manage before his friend presented him with a bottle of cheap red wine and a wink.

They hadn’t been able to see one another for almost a week. Blaine’s mother had come down with a nasty case of influenza on the weekend and he’d had been called in to help while his father kept up with his booked gigs. Whereas Kurt had been focused on speaking with Brody as soon as possible in order to take leave and get on with planning his trip home.

After calling in a favor with his boss, Kurt had managed to book the next week off and buy his train ticket back to Ohio.  By the time Monday had come along, Kurt had been itching to know how Blaine had gotten on, and had called him at work to check that everything had gone smoothly. It had, thankfully. Hunter, it seemed, was none the wiser.

“You seem tense,” Blaine said apprehensively as he uncorked the wine while Kurt searched for a pair of glasses.

“Hmm....we’ll have to make do with these, I’m afraid,” Kurt said, looking perturbed and holding up a pair of tumblers.

Blaine shrugged. “That’s fine. Is everything okay?” He asked while pouring the wine and Kurt looked surprised at the question.

“Yes, of course.” Kurt shook his head faintly and smiled. “Just a lot on my mind.”

“Oh?” Blaine placed the bottle on the bench, took the glasses from Kurt and sat at the laden table.

Kurt hummed absentmindedly. “Has that jerk said anything?” he asked anxiously.

“Uh uh. But he has been keeping an eye on me, particularly after you rang on Monday. I think he was surprised that you’re still talking to me actually.”

“But…how would he know that you’ve told me what he’s done?”

“I guess he thought I’d scurry right on over here and tell you all about it. Which is exactly what I did,” Blaine pointed out.

“And I’m glad for it,” Kurt said with a fond smile.

“Me too.” They shared a long look, smiling playfully at each other until Kurt raised his glass.

“No regrets?” Kurt asked holding his tumbler aloft, grinning as Blaine clinked their glasses together.

“No regrets.” Blaine took a small sip with his bright amber eyes twinkling and a pleased smile playing on his lips.

They spent their meal chatting about their week and it was only upon clearing the dishes that Kurt brought up his trip to Ohio.

“Oh! When?” Blaine prompted as he refilled their tumblers.

“Next week, actually,” Kurt said nervously. He didn’t particularly want to leave Blaine holding the bag if anything went wrong with Hunter, but if he didn’t capitalize on this advantage now, then it would all have been for nothing. However, one look at Blaine’s smiling eyes confirmed he was making the right choice. “Dad’s arranging a full set of chains to be made and we’re going to try to sell the design at a couple of suppliers in the Midwest. I even got my lawyer to send a standard confidentiality agreement form for patents that are pending.”

“That sounds amazing,” Blaine said warmly, his hand coming to rest on the small of Kurt’s back as they shifted from the kitchen to the sofa. Kurt relaxed under his touch, letting it center him. “And while you’re off taking over the Heartland, I’ll be heading to the west coast to do more interviews for a few days,” Blaine added as he sat, his body turned towards Kurt.

“Wow,” Kurt gasped. “Hollywood?” Blaine dropped his head and chuckled.

“Uh, not quite. Sacramento and Sunnyvale mostly but I will visit the Los Angeles office too,” he confirmed and took another sip of his drink. “What about you?  Where are you headed, other than Lima?”

Kurt eyed his friend for a moment, wanting to taste the wine from those plump lips. He dragged his own lower lip through his teeth and watched Blaine's gaze drop for a split second. His heart skipped a beat in his chest, making him giddy at the thought of their tongues touching for the first time and feeling Blaine’s body press against him.

It would be so easy.

With that single thought, Kurt’s heart thumped so loudly it dazed him and he could feel the glass in his slack hand drooping.

“Kurt?” Blaine said with a light laugh, waving to get his attention. Kurt looked longingly at his friend, his breath coming in shaky puffs.

Blaine’s smile faltered, his lips parting in understanding and all Kurt could focus on was Blaine’s tongue darting out to wet his lips. But it wasn’t until his friend’s eyelashes fluttered that Kurt realized he’d been leaning closer the entire time, drawn in by the magnetic pull of Blaine’s mouth.

Kurt froze. He was inches away from what he’d desired for the past two months.

He could feel Blaine watching him, but his thoughts were suddenly consumed with what to do with his hands. Seeing the tumbler in his hand, Kurt fumbled with it, shifting in his seat to place it on the floor. Then he glanced at Blaine’s drink, worried as to what it meant that he hadn’t put his down as well.

“Kurt,” Blaine said affectionately, his voice husky and tender.

Oh. Maybe he wanted this after all, Kurt thought. His voice was lost as he looked away anxiously. His hands gripped and slid down his own thighs in an effort to keep it together. He couldn’t be sure he was doing the right thing. What if Blaine only wanted a good time? Kurt didn’t want to be just a notch in his proverbial bedpost.

“ _Kurt_ ,” Blaine repeated, laying a warm hand over his.

He startled, his hands flapping in a moment of panic, displacing Blaine’s touch. He squeezed his eyes shut and huffed out the breath he’d been holding. There was no doubt about it; he was in way over his head.

“It’s getting late,” he croaked, disappointment settling in his gut when Blaine’s hand didn’t find his again. Soon the cushions moved beneath him, and then he was alone on the sofa.

“You’re not going to tell me where you’re going?” Blaine asked from the tiny kitchenette, his light tone sounding strained. He tipped out the last drops from his glass, rinsed it and placed it on the counter.

“Oh, um.” Kurt took a steadying breath, swallowing down his embarrassment at not following through with a kiss, and elaborated. “Lima first, t-then Findlay – which is not far from home, then Winona in Minnesota.”

“That’s quite a trek.” Blaine finally turned to face him with a sincere smile, albeit from the other side of the room.

Maybe this was for the best, Kurt considered. Particularly if the sales trip was as successful as he was hoping. What was the use of starting something if they were both going in different directions?

“I do believe my dad will have one or two more places up his sleeve, but I guess I’ll have to wait and see.” Kurt sat back and laughed hollowly as he added, “I hate that. Patience is not my strong suit.”

“Well, here’s hoping that business will be booming,” Blaine said graciously. He paused and added, “I suppose I should be on my way. Early start tomorrow.” Kurt bit his lip nervously and simply nodded, collecting his glass and getting up to put it on the table.

“Thank you for dinner,” Blaine said, slipping on his overcoat.

“My pleasure,” Kurt replied quietly. He went to help, fussing with Blaine’s coat lapel and brushing non-existent lint from his shoulder while keeping his head down. “Travel safe.” He chanced a glance at Blaine’s mouth again.

“Mm hm. You too.”

“I will.” Kurt hesitated, his fingers gripping the worsted wool lapel, not wanting to let Blaine go just yet. He finally looked up into Blaine’s dark eyes, sucked in a breath between his teeth and darted forward to drop a kiss to his friend’s cheek. He felt Blaine reach for his elbow but Kurt pulled back immediately with a flush that went all the way to the tips of his ears. “G-Good night,” he stuttered, still not ready to make eye contact.

Blaine’s hand caught Kurt’s and gave it a comforting squeeze, and then lifted it to press a gentle kiss to the back of his hand. Kurt’s skin flashed hot at the gesture and, with his mind still buzzing, he barely heard Blaine bid him a good night and head out.

Kurt gathered his wits to lock the door behind his friend and took a deep shuddering breath, letting his forehead rest against the door until the desire to race out after him dissipated. There was something about Blaine that made Kurt feel reckless; a je ne sais quoi that made Kurt want, at any given moment, to throw off all his sensibilities ( _and_ clothes) just to kiss him silly. But that just wouldn’t do. Not even married couples did that sort of thing in the streets.

As he regained control over his traitorous body, Kurt supposed that being forced to spend some time apart was a good idea, if only to allow his heartbeat to fall back into its regular rhythm

* * *

 

The curling smoke from a cigar hung suspended over a lit poker table. Around the table sat four other men and Hunter subtly eyed each one in turn. He was holding a full house and wondered if he would manage to best the table yet again.

The young, stick thin, acne scar pocked hoodlum sitting beside him went by the name of Magpie and had a proclivity for shiny things. Hunter shifted uneasily in his seat. The only thing faster than Magpie’s hands was his mouth. It was how he’d managed to get a seat at the table. But Magpie wasn’t looking much like a winner tonight so Hunter kept an eye on the thief’s hands; the combined pot of large notes, two gold pocket watches and a set of keys to a [cream 1947 Ford Super De Luxe convertible](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/95538505975/sollys-car) was an easy target. Hunter didn’t want to win the hand only to find his score was missing the keys to the V8 he’d often admired.

The car belonged to Solly Lanza, the younger brother to the infamous imprisoned mob racketeer, Joseph “Socks” Lanza. The family resemblance was strong between them. Middle-aged, Solly had the same heavy piggish face with black beady eyes and greasy hair. He sucked on the end of his cigar relentlessly, adding to the haze above them. He’d gone all in on this hand, convinced he was going to make his comeback. He was the only one Hunter couldn’t read, and he hoped Solly was having the same trouble with him.

Beside Solly sat the rakishly handsome Bill Thomson. He was a distant relative of deceased multi-millionaire Andrew Carnegie. Only in his early twenties, he was already hooked on cards and carousing. Hunter always enjoyed playing against Bill – primarily because he had an obvious tell but also his Scottish accent was catnip to the ladies, which benefited them all. Bill’s lip twitched for a split second as he considered his cards, and Hunter knew that he was about to fold.

He shifted his attention to the last player. Chico Marx - or as his friends called him, Len. However, no one at the table was Chico’s friend. The sixty year old actor was already down by three hundred smackers and had coughed up the watches as a last resort. His bad luck at the card table was renowned but this was the first time that Hunter had ever played against him. Up until tonight, he’d never been sure that the stories of Chico’s chronic misfortune were true. Except now, having seen it first-hand, he knew the real story – when it came to cards, Chico was addicted to the chase and not the win.

“Let’s see ‘em,” Solly grunted and flicked ash onto the tablecloth.

Hunter laid out his hand with a wicked grin - a trio of eights and a pair of aces.

“Shit!” Magpie threw down his cards in disgust.

“Ach!” Bill followed suit, then stabbed out his cigarette and knocked back the last of his whiskey.

Chico laid his hand down with a heavy groan and slumped back in his chair, leaving only Solly to show his cards.

“You’re a real lucky stiff, you know that?” Solly grumbled and set out his two pair, aces up.

Hunter guffawed and raked the pot of money towards himself. His luck was running hot. Had been all week. Being witness to Blaine’s failure last week had definitely put the spring back in Hunter’s step. Yet it was in tonight’s chance meeting at the jazz joint that he’d found his new good luck charm - a filly by the name of Quinn Fabray. He grinned over at the classy blonde in the tight baby blue Angora sweater. She was still hovering in the corner with one of Bill's girls, an empty champagne coupe in her hand. She caught his eye and smiled back, playing coy. Hunter shot her a wink and thought about all the ways he’d celebrate with her later tonight.

“Too lucky.” Solly’s pudgy hand slapped down on the pile and stopped its progress. It jerked Hunter out of his daydream and into the middle of an impending shit storm. “Whaddaya think, Magpie? Has Preppy here been playin’ us?”

Everyone fell silent in anticipation of Solly’s next move.

“I reckon so.” Magpie’s eyes narrowed as his right hand slid off the table.

Hunter glanced uncertainly between them. There was no reason he needed to be short changed or threatened. He hadn’t been forced to stoop to cheating - this time.

“Now see here, fellas,” Hunter made certain to sound affronted as he kept his hands on the pile of money, not willing to give an inch. “I don’t need to cheat. I’m just _that_ good.” Chico spat out his drink in a spluttering laugh but neither Solly or Magpie looked amused at all.

“Do I need to teach ya a lesson?” Magpie asked menacingly, flashing a shiny switchblade knife in Hunter’s direction.

The room’s occupants held their collective breath at the standoff.

“Honest to God, I played on the up and up. You gotta believe me, Solly,” Hunter appealed. Out of the dimly lit corner, Quinn came closer, looking concerned.

“Now that’s where you’re wrong,” Solly said as a soft click came from underneath the table. Hunter’s eyes widened at the sound of a safety catch releasing on Solly’s gun. “I don’t gotta do anything you say.”

“Boys, boys,” Quinn said in an effort to be conciliatory. She moved to stand beside Hunter who was still seated with his hands on the money. “There’s no need for violence. I’m sure you can work this out like gentlemen.”  She laid a placating hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “Perhaps, you could leave the keys.”

Hunter’s poker face remained passive but internally, he cringed. There was no negotiating with these sorts of people. He kept his eyes on the pipsqueak but out of the corner of his eye, he waited for Solly’s attention to waver.

“Perhaps he should leave it all,” Magpie sneered.

Solly harrumphed and glanced momentarily at the hoodlum with a smirk.

That was all the opportunity Hunter needed. He grabbed at the pile of money with both hands, making sure to snag the keys. With bills fluttering around them, he tucked a fistful of money to his chest, shoved out of his chair in a flash and tugged Quinn by the wrist after him. They had to get the hell out of there.

“What the fuck?”

“Get that creep!”

Hunter and Quinn didn’t stop. They burst through the door and stumbled out into the crowded club.

“Excuse me!” Quinn called out to clear the stragglers in front of them.

“Outta the way!” Hunter pushed their way through the front door and onto the rain slick pavement. His head whipped around until he spotted the cream colored car [parked down the street](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/95538547100).

“C’mon!” he yelled, knowing that Solly and Magpie would be hot on their tail. He pulled Quinn into a run, letting her go as they got to the car. He wrenched the car door open for her, waited for her to slide across the bench seat and hopped in after her.

Hunter dropped the cash on the seat between them and shoved the key into the ignition, trying unsuccessfully to turn it.

“What are you waiting for? They’re coming!” Quinn cried out, pointing out Magpie’s progress.

“Start…” Hunter groaned. “God dammit, just start!”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Quinn grumbled and reached across to hit the start button on the dash. “C’mon, let’s go!” she shouted as the engine roared to life.

Hunter twisted the steering wheel and put his foot down. The tires squealed and spun on the wet road as they pulled out of the parking space and tore off down the street. He kept his head down when they made the green light at the end of the block and turned off. He wasn’t going to let Solly catch up to them now, not when he had his prize.

“Whooo!” Quinn squealed gleefully, jolting Hunter out of his focused state. “Drive faster!”

Hunter returned her grin and eased back in his seat. This was his baby now. He should look like he owned it, not stole it.

“Faster! Faster!” Quinn yelled as she wound the window down and stuck her head out to squeal again. Hunter watched her with surprise as her carefully styled blond hair flew and flapped in the breeze.

“C’mon, don’t be such a baby!” Quinn complained. “Let’s go!”

Hunter threw his head back and laughed manically. He put his foot down on the accelerator and complied with her wishes – speeding off into the night.

* * *

 

 _“Yes, it's a good day for singing a song,_  
And it's a good day for moving along;   
_Yes, it's a good day, how could anything be wrong,_  
 _A good day from morning 'til night.”_

Kurt [sang to himself](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/95538584425/general-jack-peggy-lee-its-a-good-day-i-dare) as he stepped off B&O’s Shenandoah service. Between the four hour train trip to D.C. and the uncomfortable three hour wait during the night at Washington’s station for the Number 7, Kurt had never been so glad to see a train ready to take him home. His mood had improved significantly as they’d headed west, city by city, and by the time they’d finally arrived at Kurt’s stop in Toledo, Ohio, he was positively joyful.

He’d taken the same trip in reverse a year ago; the tickets bought with his father’s savings. Kurt had argued with him when the tickets had been given as a Christmas present but his dad wouldn’t hear of returning them. He could still remember how his father had convinced him to accept the gift.

“I did invest in the future – I invested in you, Kurt. I put my money on a ticket to get you to New York, now the rest is up to you.”

“I won’t let you down, dad.”

“You never could, kiddo.”

It seemed silly now, all the nerves he’d had while simply considering a move to The Big Apple, especially with how quickly he’d settled into city living. He’d found a job and an apartment easily, and made friends at work and in the neighborhood. Perhaps this change would be as seamless too.

With a cheery smile to his fellow passengers, Kurt kept up his song as he went to collect his luggage.

_“I said to the Sun, ‘Good morning sun,_   
_Rise and shine today’_   
_You know you've gotta get going_   
_If you're gonna make a showin'_   
_And you've got the right of way.”_

Kurt did have the right of way this time, he was sure of it. He thought of Hunter and was glad that the witless jerk was still stuck in New York.

“Kurt!” He twisted on the spot to find his father, running the short distance through the crowd to get to him.

“Dad!”

Burt wrapped Kurt up in a bear hug. “Holy Moses, you’ve grown! Look at you!”

Kurt simply grinned and let himself be tucked under his dad’s arm as they picked up his bulging bag and headed towards the [brown and silver 1944 GMC pick-up truck](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/95538625655/burts-pick-up-truck).

“Welcome home, kiddo. You hungry? Alright, let’s get lunch. Then we can hit the road to Findlay. Frank’s expecting us.” Kurt nodded and climbed into the cab of the pick-up. 

They drove to a nearby diner and caught up over burgers and sarsaparillas with Kurt soaking up his father’s comforting presence. Even with regular letter writing, it was nice to speak in person. There was no one else that Kurt was more comfortable with. Which is why Kurt found himself talking about Blaine, after his dad asked him about the ‘friend’ that helped him out with the money for the patent. He explained how they met and became friendly. However, he did leave out the fracas with Hunter and said nothing of their respective trips to the YMCA.

“I think he’s the nicest guy I’ve ever met,” Kurt said sincerely. He sighed wistfully and dragged a French fry through his ketchup.

Burt took a deep draught from his soda. “And he’s – He’s like you?” Burt asked uncertainly.

Kurt looked up at his dad and nodded before continuing his assault on the soggy fries on his plate.

“And he treats you right?”

Kurt smiled and laid down his fork. “I told you before. It’s not _like_ that, dad. We’re–”

“–Just friends. Right. Got it.” His dad said with a chuckle. “Look, kiddo, if it _was_ like that, I just wanna make sure that you’re not throwing yourself–”

“–Around. I know, dad. I remember.” Kurt laughed at the memory of the scarring talk about venereal disease and how to use a rubber that they’d had years earlier, on the night before Kurt was due to report to the draft office. “I think I still have that thing,” he remarked out of the blue while his dad paid the bill.

“Yeah?” His dad gave him a sideways look. “Don’t hold onto it forever.” They headed back out into the spring afternoon. “They’re made to be used.”

Kurt laughed. “Between your talk about ‘it meaning something’ and the draft office rejecting me for _sexual perversion_ ,” he whispered. “It’s a wonder I’ll ever use it.” Kurt hadn’t been particularly surprised when he’d been denied the chance to enlist but the sergeant on duty had been extremely coarse about it before stamping his file as 4F.

Burt huffed in frustration. “Don’t let those stuffed shirts mess with you, Kurt. You find someone you want to be with, and _you_ make that call, not those closed minded bigots. You hear me?” Kurt nodded.

“Loud and clear.”

“Good. Now, let’s go see if we can’t drum up a little interest in these things.”

* * *

 

“Kid–” Frank started. He was an elderly man, going on seventy, with yellowing white hair and a mouth full of gum where teeth once took pride of place. He had a stoop and one swollen knee which forced him to use a black lacquered cane to get around but his eyes still smiled like they knew the secrets of the universe. Kurt took an instant liking to him, even if the old man couldn’t seem to remember his name.

“Kurt,” Burt corrected the machinist.

“Right. Kurt, as I tol’ yer dad here, this design is mighty fine. The locking mechanism is real clever. You need to haul ass up over to Cooper Tires an’ see if they’re interested in makin’ a buck with these things.” Frank added the last prototype to the boxed set and interlocked the cardboard flaps.

“Dad mentioned Peerless as well,” Kurt said hesitantly.

“Yep, Peerless too. An’ if yer smart, you’d go see ‘Merican Chain an’ Cable in Pennsylvania, an’ ‘Merican Chain in Connecticut, an’, uh…where else?” he asked himself. “Yep, that’s right. Sain’ Pierre Chain over in Boston or thereabouts.”

Burt whistled. “That’s a lot of miles, Frank.”

“You gotta spend money to make it, Hummel. Ain’t no one gonna buy somethin’ like this if they ain’t seen it with their own two eyes.”

“Well, Frank, I can’t thank you enough,” Kurt said as he shook the old man’s gnarled hand. “What do I owe you for the set?”

“Aw, kid, don’t worry ‘bout a thing. Yer dad set up me with enough firewood at home to last for two winters.”

Kurt shot his father a grateful look and added breathlessly, “Looks like we have to make some travel arrangements.”

* * *

 

“And the recipient’s name?” the redheaded woman at Western Union asked.

“Blaine Anderson,” Kurt replied.

“And he’s at 542 East 72nd Street, Manhattan, New York?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Very well. What’s your message?”

Kurt cleared his throat and checked the card he’d carefully drafted it on.

“It reads: Dear Blaine. STOP. We made it to Minnesota. STOP. Have several stops left. STOP. Hope you are well. STOP.” Kurt swallowed the knot in his throat before adding, “Yours Kurt. STOP. Oh, that’s Kurt with a K,” he added as an afterthought. He waited for some kind of reaction from the tired looking woman behind the counter, but she simply counted up the words and tallied the cost.

“Hmm. If you cut it to ten words, it fits under the minimum charge of seventy five cents. Otherwise that’ll be a dollar twenty.”

Kurt consulted his card and wondered what he should change. He’d already pared it down to a minimum; he didn’t think there was anything else to lose. He considered cutting out ‘hope you are well’ but decided no, if he did that, then he would have to lose the sign-off too and he didn’t want to be that big of a chicken.

“A dollar twenty is fine.” Kurt fished out coins from his wallet and handed them over. “It goes today, right?” He wanted to reach Blaine before he left for California.

“We’ll send it right away, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Kurt wandered out of the office and into the early afternoon sun. He waved to his dad, who was leaning up against his pick-up, and motioned that he was just going into another store. They’d made good time to La Crosse and decided to re-fuel and freshen up here before driving the last few miles up the border to Winona. Kurt had been going over his notes in between switching out for driving duty and had been feeling confident about the presentation he was going to make later today, but his nerves were building now that they were only a half hour out of town. He’d have to shake them off by the time they got to the other side of the Mississippi otherwise they’d just wasted nine hours.

He headed into a little coffee shop and picked up a couple of sandwiches to go, then climbed into his dad’s waiting truck.

“This for me?” Burt asked, fishing out a boloney and cheese sandwich for himself.

“Uh huh,” Kurt replied in a daze.

“You’re gonna do fine, Kurt.”

“Has anyone ever died of stage fright?” he asked, feeling a little panicky.

“Not that I know of,” his dad replied with his mouth full. “Besides, you’re a Hummel. You’ll knock ‘em dead.”

“But what if they push me out the door?”

“Look, kiddo.” His dad put his sandwich down and squeezed Kurt’s shoulder reassuringly. “No one pushes the Hummels around. You’re gonna go in there, and you’re gonna explain exactly why they need your design, how much easier it is to use than every product out there, and how much people will be willing to spend to save time out in the cold. They’d be fools to let this go. You know it. I know it. And you can bet your ass, they know it, too. Why else would they want to see you so quick, huh?”

“That probably had something to do with calling from Cooper Tires, dad.”

“Yeah, well, better they know that they’re not the only ones in the running for this thing.”

“I guess.” Kurt still felt anxious.

“No, you _know_. You know this is a good idea, and now you’ve got them on the hook, you just need to reel ‘em in.”

* * *

 

Kurt trudged out to the Peerless car park feeling defeated. His presentation had gone quite well, for the most part. He’d discovered that there were things that he should cover sooner, and others that he could skip altogether. He also decided he needed to write new notes. He’d practically drenched and scrunched up his current set, plus he wanted to change his introduction. But overall, for his first time without his dad in the room, Kurt felt that he’d done a good job.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t good enough.

The V.P. of Marketing had decided, and there was no convincing him otherwise, that it was too much like their current product - the one they’d put thousands of dollars of R and D into, the one for which they had already _paid_ for all the research and development. They simply weren’t willing to write that cost off and start again with a new product.

Kurt sighed. He hoped the disappointment wouldn’t be too great for his father. Letting him down was the last thing that Kurt wanted to do.

 He climbed into the car and did up his seat belt in silence.

“That bad, huh?” his father asked.

“No, but they already have a chain that they want to keep selling. No point in having two.”

Burt raised an eyebrow but said nothing more about it. “I saw a motel on the way outta town. Let’s find dinner and get some sleep before the drive back.”

“We shouldn’t.” They’d made a budget to do the rounds and extra nights in motels weren’t part of the plan.

“We’ll manage.”

“If you say so,” Kurt said with a sigh. He was too drained to fight about it.

* * *

 

Cooper’s head lolled on Blaine’s shoulder as the stewardess made the announcement that they were preparing for landing. Blaine re-read Kurt’s telegram once more; his fingers tracing the typed words as he read it in Kurt’s voice.

‘Yours, Kurt.’

That had to mean something, he decided. Especially after the near miss kiss. It was clear to Blaine now that Kurt was merely inexperienced and not standoffish because he wasn’t interested. That stirred something deep inside Blaine, knowing that Kurt had options but that he wanted Blaine.

Cooper shifted beside him and mumbled something unintelligible forcing Blaine to tuck the message into his inside jacket pocket for safety.

“Tol’ ya,” his brother muttered.

“Huh?”

Cooper smacked his lips and stretched his arms. “I told you that getting the office to agree to this trip would be a breeze.”

“That’s because you’re the one paying for the airfare,” Blaine acknowledged. The patent office would never have paid the hundred dollar fare. But in a show of appreciation that the travel time was only ten hours with one change of aircraft instead of forty-five hours by train, they were paying for a rental car.

“Yeah but this way, you can do your job and get some color back in your cheeks. You’ve been looking peaky lately.”

“I have not,” Blaine protested.

“Uh, yeah, you have. Hey, I’m just looking out for my little brother here, making sure you’re not gonna flake out on me.”

“It’s a heart murmur, Cooper. Not a death sentence.”

“And yet you still got listed as unfit when you tried to join up with the Navy. They didn’t want you kicking the bucket on them either.”

“At least _their_ doctor picked it up, which is more than could be said for all the quacks mom and dad took me too,” Blaine said with a shrug. “And he pointed out that it wasn’t life threatening,” he added to shut his older brother up as the plane’s wheels touched down on the tarmac.

“Yeah. You know, Mom thought you had a recurring bout of scurvy.”

“Wait, I had scurvy?” Blaine aside in confusion as the plane came to a stop.

“Uh, yeah? Why do you think you’re so much shorter than I am?”

“Dad’s not as tall as you.”

“But he _is_ taller than you.” Cooper stood and pulled on his coat over his sports jacket. “Anyway, you got real sick with it when you were little. Stunted your growth.”

“What?” Blaine asked but his older brother was already moving down the cramped aisle to disembark and Blaine was forced to wait as the other passengers filed past. Eventually he was able to slip out and find his brother ahead of him, heading for the terminal. Jogging across the concrete, he pulled up beside Cooper, puffing a little.

“See? Peaky.” Cooper pointed to their reflection as they got closer to the terminal’s windows.

Blaine rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

Cooper chuckled and nudged him. “Welcome to San Francisco, Squirt. You get the bags. I’ll get the rental car from Hertz.”

“Yeah, okay,” he agreed as his brother headed off in a different direction. “Oh, remember I need to drop it off in Los Angeles on Friday,” Blaine called out.

Cooper spun around and pointed at him while walking backwards.  “Will do!”

* * *

 

Kurt pulled off the highway and slowed down as he drove into York, Pennsylvania. His enthusiasm was back to full force and he was ready to make a deal.

His dad’s idea of getting one of the jalopies from the shop running for Kurt to use had changed their plans somewhat. He was travelling on his own now, while his father tried to find a buyer for the [navy blue 1940 Chevrolet Sedan](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/95538771675/kurts-cross-country-ride) along the coast. It had taken them two days to get it running reliably enough for his dad to let him drive it halfway across the country. While Kurt waited, he polished the car until he could see his reflection in every surface, and then he’d made phone calls to set up appointments at manufacturers that were interested and found another small outfit in Rochester as a result. But first, he had an appointment with the executives at American Chain & Cable Company Incorporated scheduled for tomorrow morning. After that, he’d drive to Rochester and present to the Flower City Specialty Company.

Kurt turned into the cheap motor lodge’s car park on the outskirts of the town and killed the engine, wondering if he’d have the gall to eat alone at the empty looking grill across the street or whether he should just find a drive in. He laughed to himself and decided that no, he wasn’t going to launch an informal survey of all the burger joints from Ohio to New York.

He hopped out and grabbed his bag, checked in and stopped by his room to freshen up. Flicking on the radio set in his room, Kurt started to [hum along](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/95538804525/lena-horne-honeysuckle-rose-1942-when-youre) as he got ready for a shower.

_“Every honey bee sighs with jealousy_   
_When they see you out with me_   
_I don't blame them,”_

He shimmied out of his clothes.

 _“Goodness knows_ _  
Honeysuckle rose,”_

Kurt stood under the warm water, his eyes closing as the weariness of hours in the car washed off him.

_“When you're passin' by,_   
_Flowers droop and sigh_   
_And I know the reason why_   
_You're much sweeter_   
_Goodness knows_   
_Honeysuckle rose,”_

He lathered up, sweeping a soapy hand across his flat stomach and thought of his night at the YMCA. The memory of Elliot kneeling and nuzzling him flooded his senses.

 _“I don't buy sugar_ _  
You just have to touch my cup,”_

He could remember the warmth of Elliot’s breath tickling the hairs on his inner thigh, the sensation of nails scratching down the back of his legs, the wet tip of a tongue dragging over the curve of his sac.

 “ _You're my sugar_ _  
And it's sweet when you stir it up,”_

He shivered and slipped his hand down his swelling cock, pulling at himself slowly as he pictured Elliot looking up at him, dipping his head down and mouthing at his balls. Kurt closed his eyes again and let his fantasy take shape.

_“When I'm takin' sips  
From your tasty lips.”_

Soft loose black hair shifting against his thigh. Amber eyes watching him beneath hooded lids. No, blue. Elliot had blue eyes.

Kurt shook his head minutely to rid his imagination of Blaine. During the eight hour drive today, his thoughts had returned to his friend again and again. Ever since that night in his apartment, Kurt had been haunted by the lost opportunity to know what Blaine’s lips would feel like against his. All he had to go on now was the scent of Blaine’s cologne and the softness of his skin from the fleeting kiss that Kurt had laid upon his cheek. Giving in to the thought of Blaine, he tightened his grip, stroking himself while the radio serenaded him.

 _“Seems the honey fairly drips_ _  
You are confection,”_

Elliot was gone. Instead, Blaine was on his knees, his hands caressing the backs of Kurt’s bare thighs, sliding up further to cup his cheeks and squeeze.

 _Goodness knows_ _  
Honeysuckle rose,”_

Blaine kissed his way up Kurt’s inner thigh, those imaginary lips plump and pink as they dragged along Kurt’s shaft. His tongue sweeping higher and higher, until Blaine finally licked over the crown, tongue lapping noisily at his slit.

 _“…You're my sugar_ _  
And it's sweet like honey when you stir it up,”_

Kurt’s toes curled and his left leg quaked as he came, spilling over his thumb as he rubbed back and forth over his tip in a tease. The back of Kurt’s head knocked against the shower wall behind him while he caught his breath and let the music and steam swirl around him. He almost felt as if Blaine were there with him, holding him steady.

_“When I'm takin' sips  
From your tasty lips.”_

The phantom of Kurt’s fantasy gently kissed him until the music faded out, leaving him alone in the cooling water.

 _“…You are confection_  
Goodness knows  
 _Honeysuckle rose.”_

Kurt groaned and washed himself off as he came down from his orgasmic high.

Even with three thousand miles in between them, he still couldn’t control himself at the mere thought of being in the same room as Blaine. Thankfully though, Kurt had a few more days to get a hold of himself, in every way possible, before they’d both get back to New York and see one another.

* * *

 

Blaine bid Ralph, the last interviewee, goodbye and rolled up his sleeves. He then stuffed the notes he’d made into his brown leather satchel and swung it over his shoulder as he headed out of the library. The warmth of the midday sun on his bare forearms made his skin tingle pleasantly. He had to admit that his older brother was right about one thing. It was nice to be somewhere a little warmer. Spring was well and truly sprung in San Diego, and for once, Blaine had nothing else to do on a Friday afternoon but enjoy it as he drove back to Los Angeles.

He made it back to his rental car, parked beneath one of the many towering Jacaranda trees covered in masses of purple blooms that had been planted around the library’s park. He hopped into the shiny red Hudson Commodore Eight and headed for his sister-in-law’s house in Cheviot Hills. 

Leaving the city behind, the glittering blue Pacific Ocean was his companion as he travelled up the arid scrub covered coast. Entering San Clementine, the ocean disappeared and was replaced by vibrant violet Bougainvilleas draped along fence lines of the house covered hills. These too were quickly left behind, with the ocean reappearing to one side and citrus orchards to the other, which soon gave way to extensive residential building sites and palm trees dotted along the roadside.

When he neared Huntington Beach, the multitude of tall oil derricks loomed on the horizon, signalling the halfway point of his journey. Blaine occasionally caught a glimpse of the azure ocean running along the beach as he drove through the long avenue of cast iron towers and horsehead pumps. Once past Signal Hill oil field, he turned and drove through another residential sub-division being built on recently cleared land that slowly turned into the sprawl of suburbia.

Finally, Pat’s 1920’s Spanish-style four bedroom home with orange clay roof tiles came into view. Two storeys high, it housed her parents who had emigrated from Britain during the war.  They continued to maintain the elaborate flower gardens and manicured lawns while Pat and Cooper were out of town.

Blaine’s favorite part of the house was the secluded center courtyard where fragrant red roses bloomed year round. The tiles were always cool underfoot, even in the height of summer. Not to mention, it was easy enough to slip through the archway into the kitchen and raid the icebox or to steal off to the pool without anyone noticing.

Although he’d only visited twice before, each time he’d stayed out in the two bedroom guesthouse. When Blaine had asked why, Cooper had simply winked and told him to enjoy his privacy _and_ the services of the pool boy. He had, of course, refrained from such behavior, much to Cooper’s dismay. This trip, however, had been fleeting enough with only two nights stay under his belt that Blaine had made a point of driving back to spend the last hour before his flight with his brother and his wife over a late lunch.

“Squirt!” Cooper shouted excitedly across the kitchen as the cork from the champagne bottle in his hands popped free. “You’ll never guess what happened last night!”

“Whoa, what’s going on?” Blaine asked, feeling a little lost while he set down his wrinkled sport coat and satchel.

“He wants me!” Patricia squealed.

“Huh?”

“He called me this morning and told me himself. Can you imagine?” She raised her half full champagne flute and spun in a careless circle.

“Who?” Blaine looked to Cooper with wide, puzzled eyes.

“Cole Porter, you silly goose!” Pat set her glass back on the butcher’s block and grabbed Blaine by the upper arms, seemingly trying to shake some sense into him. “I sang for him last night, at dinner? Remember? That’s why I couldn’t join you two last night? Honestly, Cooper! I know you boys were out bonding, but what did you give him to drink last night?” She huffed and released Blaine, passing over a full glass over to him instead and then raising her own, ready for a toast as Cooper finished pouring his drink.

“Say hello to the leading lady of Cole’s latest musical!” Cooper crowed proudly.

“What? Oh my god!” Blaine’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you, thank you,” she preened and tipped the glass back, swallowing it all in a single gulp.

Beside her, Cooper laughed and cheered. “Bottom’s up!” His brother called out and knocked back his own drink before he swept Pat into an embrace, tipping her backward as she giggled.

Blaine laughed along with them and sipped at his champagne, hoping that one day soon he’d be able to take Kurt in his arms in the same way.

An hour later, after being regaled with the full story of Cole’s dinner party, the flamboyant guests and how she’d been asked to sing for him afterward, Blaine put his bag into the rental car and headed for the airport.

It may have been the champagne drumming through his veins, but as he hit the freeway, he turned up car radio and burst into [song](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/95538942400/nineteen40s-peggy-lee-waitin-for-the-train-to).

 _“Waiting for the train to come in  
Waiting for my man to come home  
_ _I've counted every minute of each live long day_  
Been so melancholy since he went away  
  
 _I’m waiting for my life to begin_  
 _Waiting for the train to come in,”_

This time tomorrow, he’d be back in New York and so would Kurt. Blaine could hardly wait to see him and tell him exactly how he felt.

* * *

 

 


	7. Chapter 6 - Spring/Summer 1948

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks as always to abritincanadatwo for her lovely artwork, and to thetimesinbetween who helped to beta this chapter while my fab friend manningstar was travelling.

* * *

 

“Mr. Hummel?”

Kurt glanced up from his seat in the reception area and put down the copy of the Connecticut Chronicle he’d barely been paying attention to.

After a week of presenting his idea and one knock back after another, Kurt had this and one other meeting to go. If neither of them worked out, he wasn’t sure what else he could do. Well, no, that wasn’t true. He could try the Pacific Northwest but that would require more time and funds, both of which were in short supply. The Chevy had been sold sight unseen to a used car lot in Worcester and Kurt was to drop it off after his last appointment this afternoon. The sale would buy him a train ticket back to Manhattan and a few groceries, with the rest of the money going to pay back his father. Other than that, he was broke and a tad desperate, all of which fuelled his determination to nail this deal with the American Chain Company, Incorporated.

“Mr. Smythe will see you now,” the young blonde receptionist called to him. “Follow me please.”

Kurt stood, buttoned his navy jacket and draped the red striped strap of his blue canvas satchel over his shoulder. He followed the well dressed woman through a maze of cream corridors, past a small steno pool of other young ladies busily typing, and into a large but empty boardroom. Kurt opened his mouth to ask where everyone else was but the receptionist was already gone, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving Kurt to take in the grand room as he waited for the Vice President of the company.

The large mahogany table was polished to perfection. Overly stuffed black leather chairs surrounded it, and on the floor was a hypnotic diamond patterned carpet in black, orange and cream. A grand drinks cabinet sat in one corner and a large spray of apricot and white gladioli decorated another. Spinning on his heel, Kurt searched for a hint of what exactly he was supposed to do in the empty room but found none. Large windows dominated one side of the room, showing off the stately garden that hid the car park. At the end sat a black telephone and, on the wall, an enlarged aerial photograph of what Kurt assumed was the current factory. Several tall smoke stacks stood at one end of the large brick factory which was made up of six long brick buildings and at the center of it all, a water tower stood high above the people crowded beneath it. Kurt looked closer trying, unsuccessfully, to pick out the faces in crowd when the door opened behind him.

“Ah, you must be the illustrious Kurt Hummel.”

Kurt whirled around, taken aback by the sudden arrival of the confident, willowy man that stood before him in a black pinstripe suit shot with silver thread.

“Sebastian Smythe.” The handsome brunet in his late twenties offered his hand for Kurt to shake.

“How do you do? Kurt. Kurt Hummel.”

“So I’ve heard,” Sebastian said with a wry smile.

“Oh? Oh.” He realized belatedly that the receptionist would already have announced his presence to Sebastian and that, in fact, Sebastian had already called him by his name. Kurt gripped the strap of his satchel nervously and hoped that he hadn’t already screwed this up. This was completely different to every other presentation he’d been to. Usually everyone was waiting for him to arrive. Kurt would then babble and pass out his papers, and afterwards there would be probing questions until the rejection came and he was politely ushered out the door.

“So tell me, Kurt,” Sebastian pulled out a chair for Kurt and took a seat in another. “What brings you to American Chain?”

“Well…” He paused and tried to get his bearings. “Could I trouble you for a glass of water please?” Sebastian smiled and nodded diminutively and, while his back was turned, Kurt slipped a finger under his collar to give himself some breathing room. When the heavy crystal tumbler was offered, Kurt took a long slow drink.

“Better?”

“Much. Sorry, I-I’ve been travelling this morning.” Sebastian gave a gracious nod and waited patiently as Kurt took another swallow of cool water, draining the glass.

Kurt set the empty tumbler down and cleared his throat. “I have an opportunity for you, Mr. Smythe.”

“Do you now?” Sebastian’s mouth curved into a knowing smile.

“I do.” Kurt unclasped his satchel’s latches and pulled out a sheaf of papers, handing over a fact sheet and a copy of his drawing. Sebastian barely glanced at them and set them on the table. Kurt frowned but battled on. “You make tire chains-”

“Since the twenties,” Sebastian replied smoothly and interlocked his slender fingers together on the table.

Kurt wasn’t going to fold without a fight. He couldn’t go home with nothing. He decided to cut to the chase. “Well, I have a new way of adjusting them on the fly and locking them into place quicker than you can rush me out the door.” He sat back in his chair and waited. Sebastian broke into an easy laugh and, for a moment, Kurt relaxed.

“And why should I buy your idea, Mr. Hummel?”

“It’s Kurt, please. Mr. Hummel is my father.” Sebastian merely smiled, his green eyes twinkling. “You should buy it because _I_ would buy it, and believe me, I’m a discerning customer, Mr. Smythe.”

“Sebastian, please.” He smirked as Kurt’s eyebrows rose. “I have – or _had_ a father too. Go on,” he encouraged.

“Last winter, my friends and I were caught in that awful snowstorm after Christmas. We were leaving work and there we were trying to adjust chains in the dark, scooping away snow, wet, cold and miserable as we tried to get the clasp to close with numb fingers. All I could think was that there had to be a better way, you know?” Sebastian nodded, looking amused. “So I thought of one,” Kurt said proudly and pushed the drawing closer to him to look at. “And if it was on the shelf now, I would buy a set – and I don’t even own a car!” Sebastian chuckled at that and picked up the drawing to give it a once over. “But I would buy a set for my father, and for a family friend back home in Ohio, and my boss-” Sebastian looked at him sharply. “Oh yes, I have a job already.”

“Why not sell it to him then,” Sebastian challenged while watching Kurt closely.

“Because there’s little call for tires in a phone exchange. Who ever heard of a phone in a car?” Kurt said flippantly. “But I would still buy my boss a set of these chains – _if_ they were on the shelves, that is.”

Sebastian sighed and shuffled the papers in front of him. “We’re your last call, yes?”

“Um…no,” Kurt said, feeling anxious all of a sudden. Sebastian fixed him with a haughty stare and Kurt remembered his father’s words about letting them know they had competition. “I’m seeing St. Pierre this afternoon, over in Worchester.”

Sebastian quirked a disbelieving eyebrow and looked at the papers again. “No, you’re not.”

Kurt’s whole face frowned instinctively. “Yes, I am.” He couldn’t believe the nerve of this guy to not believe that he had another appointment.

“No. You’re not.” Sebastian held a hand up to silence Kurt’s forthcoming objection. “We can’t use the chain design-” Kurt made a noise of protest. “But we do want your locking mechanism.”

“You can’t just-!” Kurt stopped himself and quickly replayed Sebastian's words. “Wait. What?”

“We want it, Kurt. I want this,” Sebastian held up the drawing, “on our chains in stores _this_ winter. Can we make a deal?”

“Wha-? I? S-Sure,” Kurt agreed breathlessly.

“I’ll be honest with you, Kurt. I’ve heard of you and your design before today. An intern at one of the other firms you’ve visited gave me a call.”

“But, the confidentiality agreement,” Kurt said uncertainly.

“Oh, he didn’t sign it. He was in the room but not privy to the presentation material you handed out.”

“I see.” Kurt frowned to himself and wondered how many other interns had done the same thing.

“Don’t fret. He and I share…common interests. He owed me a favor and it’s one that will pay off for you as well.” He stood and touched Kurt’s shoulder. “I’ll have Tabitha fetch us some coffee and gather a contract that I think you’ll be _very_ happy with. Why don’t you take the opportunity and call St. Pierre to cancel your meeting?” He motioned to the phone.

Kurt hesitated and remained seated. “Perhaps, _after_ we go over the contract.” He didn’t want to do that until the ink was dry, just in case this fell through. Sebastian shot him a calculating look and smiled wolfishly.

“I’ll tell you what,” he walked to the phone and moved it to the table. “You make the call now and I’ll even throw in a signing bonus today.”

Kurt considered his options. “How much of a bonus?” He silently hoped for a hundred dollars. It would be enough to buy a television or several new suits; something to make this week worth the effort.

“Five hundred.” Sebastian held the earpiece aloft and wiggled it in his direction as Kurt went bug eyed but kept his gaze on the table. That was more money that he’d considered possible up front. He wondered how far he could push Sebastian's envelope without breaking the deal.

“Seven fifty.”

Sebastian chuckled to himself. “Six twenty five and I watch you make the call now.”

Kurt pursed his lips and stood, brushing his sweaty hands down his thighs surreptitiously. Six hundred and twenty five dollars! It was beyond his wildest dreams and they hadn’t even talked about how much the design was worth. “I suppose that would be acceptable,” he said playfully.

“Excellent.” Sebastian smirked.

“Okay.” Kurt nodded although he was feeling dazed, and took the offered handset.

“Just to show you what a good sport I am, here’s their number,” he said and winked at Kurt, putting a piece of notepaper on the table top and then backing off as Kurt started to rotate the phone's dial.

* * *

 

“To the glamorous life,” Sebastian toasted a grinning Kurt as he clinked their champagne coupes together. “Kurt Hummel, you are about to become a very wealthy man.”

“I hope so,” he admitted, taking another sip of the bubbly wine and settling back into the hunter green quilted armchair in Sebastian’s office. The contract was a done deal. Along with the signing bonus, the check for which was tucked in Kurt’s inner jacket pocket, he’d negotiated a generous royalty deal for each chain sold with his adjustable lock on them. Based on the sale figures solely made by American Chain in the last year, Kurt was looking at a return of almost five hundred thousand dollars in the first twelve months. It was nothing short of life changing and he owed an immense debt of gratitude to Blaine. His thoughts meandered through all of the countless things he could do, buy or places he could go, or take Blaine to. Meanwhile, Sebastian kept the conversation going, mentioning the intern he’d spoken with and how he’d come to find out about the design.

“And I was all, ‘I don’t know who this Kurt Hummel is but apparently he’s forward thinking and fascinating’; although now I see that ‘captivating’ is the correct term.”

Kurt watched the young Vice President as he took his a sip of wine. There was something predatory about him and, if they’d met under different circumstances, Kurt wasn’t so sure they’d get along. But with a fat check in his pocket and sweet bubbles from champagne still dancing on his tongue, Kurt wasn’t of any mind to care.

“Another?”

“I shouldn’t,” Kurt admitted lazily. “I still need to get over to Worcester,” he paused and then as soon as he realized how that could be taken, rushed out, “To drop of my car. A-at the dealership.”

“So it’s not yours?” Sebastian asked curiously.

“No, no. I was just using it for this trip.”

“Well, now you have enough in your pocket for three cars.”

A pleased giggle slipped out unexpectedly and Kurt went wide-eyed at his loss of control even as Sebastian laughed along with him. He slid his almost empty glass on to Sebastian’s desk and took a couple of deep breaths.

“How will you get back into town if you drop the car off?” Sebastian swallowed the last of his sparkling wine and poured himself another, which Kurt couldn’t fault. After all, if their planned design change was as successful as they both hoped, sales would be boosted for Sebastian’s company as well. “I was hoping to have you here while we implement the lock into our existing chain.”

Kurt gently bit the inside of his cheeks while he decided on how to proceed. He had planned to take the train from Massachusetts but grasped the folly of the original arrangement, in that it had never allowed for success along his journey. Getting to Worcester had always been his final goal, and while he did have to deliver the car this afternoon, he didn’t need to deliver himself to Manhattan until Monday in time to start his afternoon shift.

“I could have someone drive the car over there for you,” Sebastian offered, taking Kurt by surprise as he hadn’t realized that he’d spoken his thoughts aloud. “And the dealership could wire the money wherever you wanted it to go.” His host then smiled broadly and suggested, “Here. Use my phone and call your boss. Your time would be better served here anyway.”

Kurt’s eyebrows rose at the idea but the more he thought about where he could be of use, the more it made sense to stay. “All right,” he agreed, hoping that Brody would allow it.

“Great. Once you’ve taken care of that, I’ve got some people to introduce you to,” Sebastian promised.

* * *

 

Somewhere in the distance, [music](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/97462998785) floated across Bryant Park as Blaine sighed heavily and took a seat on the steps at the rear of the library. A smattering of librarians and visitors were spread out around him, all soaking up the spring sunshine in their lunch breaks, but even the warmth of the midday sun did little to lighten Blaine’s mood. Three weeks ago he’d returned to New York, full of excitement at seeing Kurt again, only to find another telegram at his doorstep. Although the tidings from Kurt had been celebratory, the delay of his return had stopped Blaine dead in his tracks.

A letter had followed Kurt’s message, detailing the tribulations he’d encountered before landing in Connecticut with an amazing deal practically handed to him. Kurt made it sound as though he wasn’t expecting to be back for several more weeks. Apparently the company was trialing the product and the vice president wanted Kurt to oversee the process first-hand. Kurt had barely mentioned the guy - Sebastian, but Blaine got the sense that he was making Kurt feel a little too comfortable so he would stay in Bridgeport. Not that Blaine resented Kurt’s success at all. On the contrary, it was everything he’d hoped for his friend. He just wished, somewhat selfishly, that he and Kurt could be in the same place at the same time.

He sighed again and looked at his uninspiring sandwich before dropping it back in the paper bag.

“Why so glum, chum,” Hunter drawled and parked himself beside Blaine on the steps, and then surreptitiously took a swig from his hip flask. Blaine rolled his eyes and snorted in frustration at his co-worker’s antics. They were barely on talking terms these days and certainly not ‘chums’.

“Why do you care?” Blaine bit back.

“Oh, I don’t.” Hunter belched under his breath and eyed the depths of his flask. “Just wondering why you look like your dog got run over.”

“Not my dog,” Blaine grumbled.

Hunter sniffed loudly and offered Blaine a drink, which he turned down. “Say, I haven’t seen your lil’ friend around lately. Has he done a runner on you?”

Blaine bristled and said in a clipped tone. “Not at all.”

Hunter grinned as he stared up towards the sun. “Ah, so he has.”

“No!” Blaine declared in a sulk. “He’s just busy.”

“Ignoring you, you mean.” Hunter brayed with malicious laughter and Blaine gripped his paper bag tightly, ready to storm off when his attention was suddenly caught by someone calling his name.

“Mr. Blaine Anderson? Telegram for Blaine Anderson,” a young man called out into the crowd.

“That’s me!” Blaine shot to his feet to get the boy’s attention. He was apprehensive as to what the news might be, knowing it was most likely from Kurt but he eagerly accepted the cable and ignored his colleague’s sneer. He tipped the delivery boy and then quickly walked off, making sure to hide in one of the tall alcoves at the library’s entrance, away from Hunter’s prying eyes.

Blaine ran his fingers over the typed sentences that had been clipped and stuck to the message sheet.

 _‘Dear Blaine. Trial with my design worked. Still working on sourcing the right materials. Will be here a while longer. Spoke with Brody again. Pressured to return to work. Was unable to guarantee job. Had to quit. Hope you’re enjoying the lovely weather without me. Write me. Room 17 Barnum Hotel CT. Miss you. Kurt.’_ Blaine shut his eyes and crumpled the message in his fist. Turning his head to the alcove’s marble wall, he put his back to the never ending stream of people at the revolving door and tried to work through the welling panic he felt at the prospect of not seeing Kurt again.

Several deep breaths later, Blaine had calmed down enough to form a plan. He’d go to his brother’s apartment tonight, use the spare key and borrow their telephone to call Kurt at the hotel. He had to know how long ‘a while longer was’, exactly. Kurt quitting his job was a huge step to take and yet, he made it seem almost trivial in his wire. Blaine needed to make sure that Kurt was okay. He hated to think that he was being pressured into making a mistake that could cost him in the long run, and yes, hearing his voice would certainly make Blaine feel better about the entire situation too.

* * *

 

Hunter snickered while Blaine scurried off to collect his cable. He’d be thrilled if Kurt had ditched him. The kid had been yapping about his little friend to anyone with an ear in the office and for the past few months it had been a non-stop merry-go-round of ‘My friend, Kurt,’ or ‘Oh, when Kurt and I’. Of course Hunter stopped listening about two seconds in, completely disinterested in Blaine’s personal life. It had become clear that here had either been little or no repercussions between the kid and his fairy friend, or that Blaine hadn’t actually spilled the beans on what had happened with the patent. But Hunter figured it was the first option because the last he’d heard, Kurt had gone back to Ohio. No doubt to lick his wounds. That suited Hunter just fine – the further away he stayed, the better. Now, with Blaine positively moping, it was even more entertaining. Watching the little suck-up sulk actually gave Hunter something else to think about, instead of focusing on the trouble that had found him last night.

Hunter took a shallow sip of his whiskey and mourned the loss of the Ford convertible that he’d had to give back. Just the thought of Solly’s two goons looming over him made him shudder. It wasn’t weakness that had made him cower, he realized. He was an ideas man after all, not a thug. It wasn’t surprising that two bona fide henchmen had put the wind up him. He was just glad that Quinn hadn’t been there to see him get dragged out into the alley behind the club and socked in the stomach. But it was the threat to mangle his hand that had forced Hunter to cough up the keys, and then when he was finally alone, his dinner as well.

With a curl of his lip, his thoughts returned to the patent. He mused that he should find somebody to do _something_ with it – get it earning a buck for him. He trawled his memory, thinking if his old naval contacts but doubted that they would still be in the same places he last saw them. Hunter quickly dismissed the idea of tracking them down, happy instead to think of his overflowing coffee tin of money. His luck may have run out with the car but it was strong as ever at the tables.

His thoughts turned to Quinn again, as they did more often than not these days. She’d certainly had an effect on him. Truth be told, he was impressed with her – she was a lot like him actually; her outward appearance prim and proper but hidden away she had a devilishly wild side. She worked two jobs apparently; both button down types, especially the library with all the mild mannered bookworms. She’d confided in Hunter, while swapping pillow talk, that she’d craved someone like him – a respectable man to take home and meet the parents but a man who could thrill her with impropriety. Danger definitely turned her on too. That became apparent after the first joyride in Solly’s car, parked up in a deserted alley. Passionate and self-assured, she’d climbed onto his lap and given him his own private joyride right there in the front seat. It wasn’t love though, not that Hunter was looking for it. Besides, Quinn was detached about their dalliances. By the time he’d dropped her home, she was always as cool as a cucumber, having made sure her little white gloves were on, and fussing with her hair and reapplying her lipstick. No, it might not be love, Hunter mused, but he was always pleased to see her.

* * *

 

“Mr. Lansbury? This is Kurt Hummel, the designer I’ve been telling you about,” Sebastian paused while Kurt shook the grey haired man’s hand. Sebastian had already pointed out Henry Lansbury earlier, making sure Kurt understood the importance of getting on-side with the head of the Board and his wife.

“How do you do?” Kurt enquired courteously as murmurings of polite conversation over cocktails surrounded them.

“Very well. And yourself, young man?”

“Oh, fine. Fine, sir. Thank you for asking.”

“Kurt, here, is going to make us wealthy men come this winter,” Sebastian said with a smug grin, winking at Kurt. “Well, wealthier,” he corrected himself. “His idea is going to put us over the top in market share, I’m sure of it. And then Peerless can kiss -   Pamela! How lovely to see you,” Sebastian greeted Henry’s serious looking wife, a thin woman in her sixties. Her steel grey hair was cut into a severe bob that brought out her prominent cheekbones. She was the epitome of casual elegance, dressed simply in a fitted dark green knit dress, cut to mid-calf, and accented with a [bejeweled gold fly brooch](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/image/96044423355), simple gold and diamond earrings.

“Sebastian,” she said with a brief nod, her gaze lingering on Kurt. “I understand that congratulations are in order.”

“Yes!” Sebastian said quickly. “And uh, speaking of work...” He tried valiantly to steer her attention to Kurt.

“Oh, yes,” she said wisely. “You’re right about that. It _will_ take some work, young man,” Pamela continued as Sebastian plastered on a smile and shot an anxious look at Kurt. She finally relented and asked, “So, who, pray tell, is this?” She looked Kurt up and down with pursed lips and he resolved not to fidget in front of her, settling instead to smile tentatively.

“Pamela, this is Kurt Hummel,” Sebastian introduced them and put his hand to the small of Kurt’s back, pushing him forward ever so slightly.  “He’s joined us from Manhattan and has fashioned something new for us.” Pamela looked to Sebastian and back to Kurt with amusement playing at the corner of her mouth.

“Something to keep your young harmony in check, I presume?” Sebastian shook his head immediately and, although Kurt had no idea to what Pamela was referring to, he seized his chance to make a good impression and changed the subject.

“Mrs. Lansbury? If I may?” Kurt motioned towards her brooch. “That is exquisite. It’s a trembler, isn’t it?” She gave an almost imperceptible nod of her head, not letting the wings of the gold fly pin tremble on their tiny springs. “Is it a Hattie Carnegie piece?”

“You have a good eye, Mr. Hummel,” Pamela said, sounding pleased. “So you’re a designer, then?” Kurt took a breath to interrupt her but Sebastian’s hand at his back moved to squeeze his side in a warning not to. He decided to try a different tack instead.

“I certainly have an appreciation for the aesthetic of design but I’m…more of an inventor, I suppose.”

“He’s being modest,” Sebastian said lightly, subtly removing his hand from Kurt’s back altogether but shooting him a brazen look, his eyes flitting up and down Kurt’s body in a flash. “Shall I freshen your drink, Pamela?” He offered.

Pamela pursed her lips momentarily but quickly made her decision. “Kurt can do that, and then he and I can talk about the state of your boardroom.”

“Certainly,” Sebastian deferred with grace but defended his choice of ultra-modern furnishings in the company’s boardroom. “But a new decade _is_ right around the corner, Pamela. New materials, new colors – we’re a business preparing for the future. We need to look the part.”

“Garish geometrics on the floor, though,” she said with a frown. “Your father would be spinning in his grave if he knew what had happened to that Oriental rug your lovely mother picked out years ago,” she lamented, handing off her almost empty glass to Kurt. “Be a dear, would you?”

“Of course.” Kurt deftly relieved her of the glass and shot Sebastian a commiserating glance. He’d already complimented his host on the bold use of color and design throughout the company’s offices. Turning it back into a staid and traditional room would be less than effective, particularly as it would look exactly the same as all the other boardrooms he’d seen at the other plants. As Kurt made his way through the cocktail crowd, he resolved to change her mind.

* * *

 

Loneliness had driven Blaine back to this place. He smiled politely at a few guys lingering by the entrance and headed for reception. His thoughts wandered back to Kurt as he pushed through the front door, and Blaine wondered, if he were here, whether he’d get a kick out it.

He approached the young lady behind the desk in the middle of Radio City’s foyer. “Cooper Anderson?” He asked and she barely had the chance to buzz through to the correct office when Cooper’s voice rang out behind him.

“Squirt!” Blaine spun around as his older brother hurried towards him. “Don’t worry, Jeanette. He’s with me,” Cooper assured the receptionist. “You’re late,” he growled under his breath and hauled Blaine by the elbow to the waiting elevator. Blaine took his arm back from his brother’s grasp and then stepped into the lift where he was greeted by a petite, young brunette with her arm across the door to prevent it from closing. “Thanks, Rachel. Now that my little brother’s here, we can go wow ‘em,” Cooper said with a wink.

“Good. The cool air in this elevator shaft is undoing all the work I put into my earlier warm-up,” Rachel declared emphatically before sticking out her white gloved hand at Blaine to shake. “Hello, you must be Blaine. Although you are as handsome as Cooper described, your brother neglected to mention your penchant for tardiness.” Cooper coughed into his hand to cover his smile as Blaine stood in between them, feeling dumfounded. He had been invited to watch Cooper fill in on the radio while he sang with the orchestra, but even though he gathered that Rachel was set to perform with him, he didn’t understand what the fuss was about. He was bang on time.

“Uh, hello, Rachel.” Blaine shook her hand gently and searched her expressive dark brown eyes for signs that she was joking. She wasn’t. “My apologies. Cooper did say half past five…”

Cooper broke in to announce, “Yes, but that was before Jerome Cowan and Betty Garrett had car trouble on the Parkway.” Rachel practically wiggled in excitement as she took over the story, her hands mimicking the actions of her words.

“This means that your brother and I will be taking the lead tonight and hopefully wresting it away from Jerome and Betty, _and_ Mr. Weaver is here!”

Blaine scrunched up his face as he asked, “And Mr. Weaver is?”

“NBC’s hotshot producer. We impress him; we’ve got a real chance at a successful radio gig,” Cooper replied.

“He’s an advocate of the network producing their own programming,” Rachel assured him as she swept her fingers through her long dark hair and flicked it over her shoulder.

“That’s fantastic!” Blaine congratulated them both. “So what’s on the Railroad Hour tonight, then?”

“Do you remember Best Foot Forward?” Cooper asked, referring to the Broadway show from the early forties and the movie starring Lucille Ball.

“Sure.”

“We’re doing selections from Ralph Blane, which will allow me to show my comedic side. I’m not just a songstress, you know,” Rachel added confidently.

“Oh?”

The elevator lurched to a stop, cutting Rachel off. Once the heavy lift door slid back, it revealed a busy corridor of congregated musicians, all gossiping noisily with each other while trumpets and bows stuck out waywardly into the walkway. Cooper’s face broke into an easy grin at the sight, clearly feeling at home amongst the animated chaos, while Rachel put on a determined look, already beginning to usher people into their correct places to wait as they stepped out of the lift.

“Break a leg, Coop,” Blaine said as his brother swiftly delivered him to a separate booth to watch the show from. Cooper simply shot him with a finger gun and clicked his tongue to pull the imaginary trigger.

* * *

 

Rachel barreled on, oblivious to the blond waiter clearing the plates in front of Cooper and Blaine, as she recounted the highs and lows of her performance and the facial expressions that Mr. Weaver had made all the while.

“Well, I think you did a marvelous job. Your rendition of the Blues in [Barrelhouse, The Boogie-Woogie or The Blues](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vORyvVs4I3I) was amazing,” Blaine said earnestly. He’d been impressed with the power of her singing voice while backed by the orchestra in the crowded studio.

“Thank you, Blaine,” Rachel accepted his compliment effortlessly with a bright smile.

“And Cooper, you sounded incredible on Three Men on A Date too. Gosh, you guys, you did a _great_ job. I just hope the producer can see that and give your own spot or…or show!” Rachel beamed at him before excusing herself from the table to freshen up. Blaine watched her make her way through the small restaurant and then turned back to his brother. “You two seem to uh, get along well. There isn’t any funny business I should know about is there?”

“Blainey,” his brother scolded him with a frown. “No one can compete with Pat,” he said with a shake of his head then signaled for the bill.  “I do believe she’s pining for someone else.”

“Anyone I know?”

Cooper chuckled, and then smiled to the young blond man who brought over the bill. “There you go,” he said to the waiter, pulling out notes from his wallet. 

“Thanks. Hey, um, aren’t you…?”

“Yes. Yes, I am Cooper Anderson,” Cooper said smoothly and stuck out his hand to shake the waiter’s hand. Blaine rolled his eyes then checked his watch.

The waiter shook Cooper’s hand with a look of confusion on his face. “No. I mean, you’re Blaine…Blaine Anderson, right?”

Blaine glanced up at the young man. “Do I know you?”

“Um. Yeah? I dunno if you remember me but we went to P.S. 42 together? You were ahead of me though...” Blaine squinted at him, trying to jog his memory. “…by a couple of years.” Blaine shook his head, feeling mystified.

“Sorry…I- Uh, I don’t remember your-”

“It’s Sam. Sam Evans?”

“Sam Evans…” Blaine looked away. The name was familiar. “Wait-” He looked at Sam again, suddenly able to place him. “You were the kid with the comics!”

“Yeah! That’s me,” Sam said with a grin. “I still have ‘em all too; Phantom, Captain Marvel, Superman, Batman.”

“Wow. It’s nice to see you again, Sam. It’s been a long time.” Blaine shook Sam’s hand eagerly.

“Yeah. Hey, maybe we could catch up some time. I’ve got the latest issues of Sub-Mariner _and_ Captain America.”

“Oh, yeah? Yeah, that sounds kinda neat. Uh, I work over at the library, upstairs. If you’re not working during the day, you should come by.”

“Cool. I’ll do that. I’m kind of just filling in here.” Sam looked around the restaurant quickly and leaned in. “I’ve got another job starting in a few days – in television.” He discreetly put his fingers to his lips to keep the news quiet.

Blaine shuffled forward in his seat. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna be interning for CBS.”

“Get outta town,” Cooper said in surprise, making both Blaine and Sam glance at him.

“They’re making a new show – mostly one guy talking to people. There’s gonna be music and stuff too, I guess,” Sam said with a shrug.

“Like who?” Cooper asked.

“Dunno. Guess I’ll find out next Sunday.”

“Sounds like fun,” Blaine said with a smile.

“Oh, hey. If I can get Ira to get a couple of tickets, do you wanna come?” Sam asked them both. “We need people for the audience,” he admitted.

“Definitely!” Cooper assured him.

“That would be amazing, Sam. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Look,” Sam grabbed a napkin and scribbled down an address before handing it over to Blaine. “It’s called ‘The Toast of the Town’ at the CBS Studio. Be there at eight. I’ll meet you out front.”

“Great. Thanks again, Sam.”

“Hey, man. It was good running into you again.” Sam straightened up and took Cooper’s payment. “See you on Sunday.”

“’Bye,” Blaine said with a wave and smiled as he spotted Rachel making her way back over to their table.

“C’mon Squirt, let’s get a cab and drop Rachel off.”

* * *

 

“‘Humphrey!’ I said, knowing that two bit scoundrel was just going to up and leave me there,” Pamela Lansbury remarked to the small crowd gathered around her. “And what do you know? He did!” She tittered behind her hand as her hangers-on erupted into laughter.  Kurt smiled and nodded along, sharing the joke about her dog as Sebastian offered him another drink.

“Here, try this. It’s an Old Fashioned. It should be right up your alley.”

Kurt took a small sip, letting the sharpness of the bitters roll over his tongue. He sucked in his cheeks and took a moment to stretch the muscles of his jaw and ease the corners of his aching cheeks. The past two months had been endless rounds of meetings during the day and parties in the evening. The constant polite smile Kurt had kept in place was beginning to crack, hence the need something stronger than cheap wine.

His saving grace had been Sebastian, who had been an almost constant companion while Kurt was in the office. He ensured Kurt was included in the meetings to discuss metallurgical requirements, something that had gone right over Kurt’s head in the beginning, and to meet with the heads of departments to ensure the molds were made correctly. Sebastian had encouraged him to expand on his original idea, taking the concept to other types of vehicle tires, not just cars. Kurt was party to those meetings as well and it was incredibly satisfying to feel like he was an important cog in American Chain.

Outside of work, Sebastian made sure that he was set up at a local establishment, a large red brick hotel named after P.T. Barnum of the circus business. He also made sure that Kurt met with the rest of the Board of Directors and was introduced into their social circle so that he wouldn’t be lonely in the evenings. The result was attending well-to-do cocktail parties and dinners as Sebastian’s guest from mid-week to Saturday.

Kurt had also been lucky enough to have attended the symphony and the local repertory theatre with Sebastian and his younger, more casual friends. On the rare evenings that Kurt was alone, he’d stop by the Art Cinema to see a double feature or add to his letter to Blaine. The whirlwind of socializing had left him little time to worry over his lack of contact with his New York friends and even with letter writing, things quickly became stilted when he wasn’t able to reply as quickly as he would have under normal circumstances. Because Kurt was out so much in the evenings, Blaine had resorted to leaving phone messages at the front desk for him and then, when Kurt called from Sebastian’s office to the patent office, neither of them had any privacy to discuss what they actually wanted to and communication between them slowed to a crawl. Days became weeks, and a week became two. A small stack of letters from Quinn, Marley and his father sat unread while his latest ever growing missive to Blaine was slowly developing into a novella of incoherent rambling.

Kurt licked his lips after his next sip of his drink. “This one’s a little tart.” He leaned into Sebastian’s side and murmured, “Maybe something sweeter next time? With cherries.”

“There’s no pleasing some people,” Sebastian teased. “Have you seen the rest of the house? I could take you on the whistle-stop tour?”

Kurt drained the rest of his drink and smiled toothily. “Sure. First, though, let me get another of these. What? It’s growing on me,” he said in mock defense.

A trip around the lower levels of the grand old house to admire the paintings quickly turned into a tour of the grounds to admire several sculptures and topiaries. The warm, scented night air was delightful and Kurt found himself leaning against a large tree with his eyes closed, happy to breathe in the early summery notes of jasmine and primrose, and listen to the [music](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/97463057115/margaret-whiting-now-is-the-hour-1948-sunset) coming from the house.

“You look ready to call it a night,” Sebastian noted, planting his hand against the same tree and watching Kurt closely.

“Mmm, I suppose so,” Kurt said softly with his eyes still closed, silently wishing that Blaine could be here beside him. He missed his friend terribly.

“Let’s go. My driver can drop us home.”

“Okay.” Kurt’s eyelashes fluttered open and he smiled at Sebastian dreamily. It was so nice of him to look out for Kurt like he did.

During the drive home, Kurt wound down the window a little and let the fresh air wash over him. Although the fragrance from the passing stately gardens and tang of sea air was pleasant, he was beginning to miss the scent of freshly washed city concrete and his own bed. Beside him, Sebastian made a note of something in his date book and tucked it away in his jacket pocket before tapping out a cigarette and lighting it. He mentioned something to Kurt about tickets to a show that he had for the weekend and Kurt made an agreeable noise, not really paying attention. Of course, he’d go along to the show, there was little else for him to do here other than the plans Sebastian made for him. The thought of being so isolated suddenly rattled him. He hadn’t felt this way for a long time, not since finishing high school and working at the local exchange in Lima. A fresh feeling of homesickness welled up within him. New York. Maybe it was time to go back, or to go forward.

Kurt was so deep in thought that he didn’t even startle when they pulled into Sebastian’s driveway.

“Oh! Rats, I must have completely forgotten to tell the driver to stop at your hotel.” Sebastian looked perplexed for a moment. “Of course, you could stay here. Mrs. Clapsham probably has one of the spare rooms made up.” Kurt raised his eyebrows and smiled as Sebastian continued to ramble. “But no, what am I thinking? I’ll have Terence drop you back.”

“Sebastian,” Kurt started, letting his hand rest upon his host’s forearm. “Let the man finish up, it’s late. I’d be happy to stay.” His host took a last drag of his cigarette then stubbed it out in the ash tray.

“As you wish.”

Kurt waited at the front door as Sebastian bid the driver a good night. He trailed behind his host, weaving through dark halls until they got to the drawing room, where the last of a fire was dying out. Sebastian flicked on a lamp and asked him to wait as he checked out the state of the spare rooms. Kurt took a seat in a large worn leather chair and patiently watched the flames flicker. He’d been to Sebastian’s home many times before tonight for dinner or drinks, but never to spend the night. The entire place was in a state of renovation, with the only kitchen and dining room finished. The rest of the house was in flux. Older, more traditional furniture pieces, like the chair Kurt had chosen, were interspersed with clashing, colorful and industrial looking pieces. Several large paintings were stacked against the wall. Sebastian seemed to be struggling with where to put the Cubist artworks he’d recently purchased, which were at odds with the conservative landscapes that had previously donned the walls. Kurt had offered to help with the interior design but, after hearing of the untimely passing of Sebastian’s parents, he backed off, letting his host sort through his family’s possessions and trinkets in his own time.

“Uh, this puts me in a bit of a quandary,” Sebastian said as he stopped in the doorway. Kurt glanced up, jolted from his musings of how he’d decorate this room. “None of the other rooms upstairs are fit for habitation.”

“Oh.” Kurt resigned himself to having to trudge back to the hotel after all. He was not looking forward to the walk. The warmth of the fire after a long evening out had made him sleepy.

“Except mine, of course. Although I’m sure you’d much rather your own bed at the hotel.” Sebastian leaned against doorframe, looking as weary as Kurt felt.

Kurt hesitated only for a moment. “…Well, we could make do, I suppose. I really am rather tired. If- If you don’t mind, that is.” Sebastian merely smiled at him lazily.

“Of course I don’t mind. C’mon then, sleepy head. Follow me.”

Once again, Kurt trailed behind Sebastian, climbing the old creaking stairs and following him into a lit bedroom that was dominated by a four poster bed. The clean lines of the dark stained wooden frame that rose to meet the canopy frame were all clear of any hanging fabric. Here, in this room, the renovation was complete and Kurt turned on the spot, taking in the straight lines of an obviously new set of drawers. The tall boy and matching bedside cabinets were free of historical flourishes or curved lines, their design minimalist and the aesthetic undeniably masculine. It suited Sebastian, he realized. Strong, purposeful and practical.

Another fire was burning in the hearth. Even though it was early summer, there was a pervading chill in the house that made the warmth of the fire welcome. Kurt headed towards it and looked over the few photographs propped up on the mantle as Sebastian fetched a pair of pajamas for him to use.

“Here, try these.” His host pushed crisp cotton sleepwear into Kurt’s waiting hands and moved away to close the curtains.

Kurt checked over his shoulder and found that Sebastian had opened the wardrobe to change out of his clothes. Feeling more comfortable, Kurt divested himself of his own clothing and pulled on a pair of too short white pajama pants with blue stripes. He smiled at the sight of his bare ankles and wiggled his toes. Clearly, these were not a pair of Sebastian’s pajamas. His host had shoulders broader than his own, not to mention he was an inch or two taller as well. Kurt stifled his laugh and took a look at the matching shirt. There was no way he could fit into it but he tried nonetheless. He slipped in one arm, where it promptly got stuck at the elbow and Kurt realized that he wouldn’t be able to button it up at all. He laughed and wondered aloud, “How on earth- ? I don’t think this shirt will fit me.” Still chuckling, Kurt stripped it off.

“You’ll probably be warm enough without it anyway. I’ll stoke the fire up in a moment,” Sebastian called out from behind the wardrobe door. “Would you turn out the light, please?”

Kurt shrugged to himself and left the pajama top with his clothes He switched off the lights and turned the bed down quickly, happy to dive under the covers and pull them up to his nose while he curled up on his side. It was chilly away from the hearth. “These things can’t possibly be yours,” he called out, referring to the too small pajamas.

“Ah, yes. Sorry, they’re all I could find.” Sebastian’s voice was closer and Kurt opened his eyes to find his host crouching in front of the fireplace, adding some coal and another log of wood. He was surprised to see the firelight bouncing off of Sebastian’s bare legs. “You see, I don’t usually wear anything to bed but tonight, I’m making an exception.” Sebastian stood, still facing the fire and naked save for his underwear. Kurt watched as he stretched his arms above his head, admiring the way his muscles shifted as he rolled his shoulders. “Mmm, it’s nice and warm over here.” Kurt gasped into the sheets when Sebastian turned around. Even backlit by the fire, Kurt could make out the shape of him, long and hard in his underpants. Sebastian didn’t give any sign that he’d heard Kurt’s astonishment and simply wandered over to close the bedroom door before heading to the empty side of the bed. “Have you warmed it up in here yet?” Kurt hummed as Sebastian’s slipped beneath the sheets.

His host shuddered. “Gosh, it’s freezing.” Sebastian rolled over and shifted to lie behind Kurt, leaving a small space between them, before asking, “Will you keep me warm?” Kurt hummed absentmindedly again and waited to see what would happen. It wasn’t that Sebastian was unattractive. Oh, no…Kurt definitely found him handsome. But ever since Kurt had left New York, he’d failed to think of himself doing anything like this with anyone other than Blaine.

Sebastian wiggled closer, looping his arm around Kurt’s waist and letting it settle by his chest. Kurt’s heart pounded as their bodies pressed together. He’d never been in this situation. He could feel his host’s dick prodding against his cotton covered cheek and he wondered if he should move away or shift against it. It seemed torturous to stay in this position, unsure of the correct etiquette for this sort of thing.

“Sorry,” Sebastian murmured, seemingly reading his mind and reaching down to adjust himself in his underwear, lining the shaft up to the cleft of Kurt’s bottom. His host relaxed against him, his breathing eventually evening out as he fell asleep. Kurt remained still and his breathing shallow while he willed his body back under control. His own length had started to fill with every tiny movement of Sebastian’s body. He could still feel the shape of Sebastian behind him, the heat of it burning into his skin. He wanted to move, to press back and grind it between them, but he was worried about waking Sebastian. He wasn’t exactly sure if he wanted to do anything like _that_ with him and, if the guilt winding its way through his chest was anything to go by, he’d prefer it to be another man to be pressed against him in Sebastian's place. At the thought of Blaine, his breathing calmed and he too slowly drifted off to sleep, dreaming of his friend.

* * *

 

“This was an excellent idea, Rachel.” Blaine settled back into the cinema seat beside his new friend and offered her a box of Milk Duds that he’d bought during intermission. He looked over to the brunette when no response came and noticed her dabbing at her reddened eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Rachel sniffed. “It’s just a little close to home,” she said with a wave of her embroidered hanky to the screen. Blaine let his box of candy sit in his lap as he slung an arm around her and encouraged her to lay her head upon his shoulder. She whimpered and snuffled into her handkerchief again.

They’d become close in the past month. Blaine had spent a few more evenings at Radio City when his brother and Rachel filled in for a few other no-shows; consequently there’d been more dinners together afterwards. But it wasn’t until up-and-coming star, Ryder Lynn, had made an unwelcome pass at her that Rachel spent more time alone with Blaine.

Ryder and Rachel had seemed like a natural fit vocally and, when Rachel insisted on singing with him alone in the studio to work out harmonies, it seemed that he’d gotten the wrong end of the stick. Blaine was glad Cooper had sorted the guy out, not that Rachel needed anyone to stick up for her. She’d already verbally dressed him down and given him what for by the time Cooper had gotten wind of it. Still, Blaine was happier knowing that Cooper had made it clear that Rachel was not only engaged and but was to be treated with the utmost of respect. After that, Ryder steered clear of all three of them, mistakenly thinking that Blaine was Rachel’s intended.

It became easier then, for Rachel and Blaine to spend even more time together; there were brunches on the weekend sans Cooper, and eventually Saturday afternoons strolling in the park or evenings out to the movies or a club. He played the part of her non-threatening but ever present companion, and she provided him with a welcome distraction from the hole that Kurt had left in his life. Rachel’s friendship was solid and their unspoken deal sound but it wasn’t going to last with the return of her fiancé on the horizon, and the plot of their latest movie selection proved to be Rachel’s undoing.

The flick, Homecoming, was a tale of wartime surgeon Clark Gable who, with a wife at home, had fallen in love with a nurse played by Lana Turner at the front line. It was Rachel’s worst fear brought to life and projected on the big screen for all to see.

It had just been days since the news broke on the radio of the blockade of Berlin by the Soviets. Cut off from electricity, food and water, the entire city had been left to starve by the Communists. What little was left of the Allied air forces in Europe had been re-routed to Wiesbaden or Hanover airports in Germany.

Rachel had been expecting her long-time beau to return home at the end of his tour of duty in June. Instead, her fiancé, a lanky flight mechanic by the name of Finn Hudson and his best friend, a hotshot pilot of a C-54, Noah ‘Puck’ Puckerman, had been reassigned to help fly food, medicine and coal into Berlin through to the end of July. But it wasn’t her fears of him being shot down that were most pressing - Finn and Puck had proved to be a hard target to hit throughout the war. No, for now she was much more concerned over the gratitude of the local women who might turn his head during the air lift and stop him from coming home altogether.

“How can I complete with Lana Turner?” she asked with a wail that was muffled by Blaine's shoulder.

Blaine shushed her and stroked her hair. “They won’t _all_ look like Lana Turner,” he tried as a consolation, knowing he’d failed when her balled up fist thumped him in the chest and she cried harder.

“What if he doesn’t love me anymore?” Rachel whimpered while the house lights went dark.

“He does. You know he does,” Blaine rasped, still trying to catch his breath.

“Eighteen months is a long time,” she replied quietly. “What if he changed his mind?”

“Rach, you told me yourself of how he tracked you down once the war was over and had you flown to the base in Hawaii so he could propose. That is a determined man. He’s not going to change his mind.”

“You don’t know.”

“He’s not going to let some Lana Turner lookalike distract him from coming home to you. Look, it’s starting.” Blaine silently crossed his fingers that he was telling the truth, and that the movie had a happy ending otherwise there’d be more tears later.

* * *

 

Summer was in full force by the final week of June and Kurt spent Saturday with Sebastian and his friends, swimming and lazing in the warmth of the sun. They’d grilled burgers and drank beer in his yard as the sun dipped lower and finally set altogether. Once the last of the group had disappeared off home in the dark, Kurt finally brought the idea up of leaving Bridgeport to Sebastian as they headed inside to tidy up the kitchen.

“Now why would you want to go and do a thing like that?” Sebastian looked at him startled and set a pile of dirty dishes beside the sink.

“Because I miss it. It’s my home,” Kurt said simply. He collected another full ash tray and emptied it in the rubbish sack he was holding.

“You could make a home here,” Sebastian said with a smirk, shooting him a wink that made Kurt blush and think about the last two occasions he’d spent cuddled up in bed with Sebastian hard at his back. “You make an excellent little spoon and maybe tonight we can…fork.” Kurt groaned and threw a bottle cap in his direction.

“That’s a _terrible_ pun. Terrible.” Kurt rolled his eyes and wondered exactly when he’d become comfortable with double entendres. Their first night in bed together had passed without words, but during their second, a week later, Sebastian had spooned him again, asking if he knew what men did together. Kurt had blushed his way through the mostly one-sided conversation, only stammering out brief answers to questions and wondering why Sebastian’s hands stubbornly remained above the waist.

“I was serious, though.” Kurt looked to Sebastian with a raised eyebrow, unsure if he was referring to doing _that_ or to staying in town. “You could stay here.”

“But I miss-”

“With me.”

“ _Oh_.” Even though they got along well, Kurt was surprised at the suggestion, mostly because the idea of being intimate with Sebastian was still so new and nerve-wracking. “I- I’d need to think about it.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” Sebastian said with a fond smile and took the rubbish bag off Kurt, putting it aside to deal with in the morning. “Shall we?” He held out his hand confidently and smiled when Kurt took it only after a slight hesitation.

They took turns in the shower, with Kurt finishing first and changing into a pair of pajama pants that actually fit before sliding into bed and waiting for Sebastian. He was already hardening at the thought of Sebastian washing him himself off and coming to bed. He wasn’t one hundred percent sure what was going to happen this evening. He knew that Sebastian’s earlier joke had been made to break the tension that had been building all week between them. In the privacy of Sebastian’s office, Kurt had lingered too long by his side, wanting to have Sebastian’s hand guide him at the small of his back again, whereas Sebastian had become more brazen. He’d taken to winking at Kurt behind other people’s backs, licking his lips and looking at him salaciously, brushing up against Kurt’s ass while he was leaning over a desk. It was a very heady experience and it had all been leading to tonight. It had simultaneously excited Kurt and put him at ease, knowing that Sebastian knew exactly what he was doing and that he wanted Kurt in _that_ way. It was just that Kurt wasn’t close to being sure if he wanted _everything_ that Sebastian was offering for the future. He simply didn’t know if he should stay in Bridgeport indefinitely.

The lights clicked off as Sebastian wandered through the doorway, clad only in a towel. Kurt bit his lip while his hard-on pulsed at the sound of it dropping of the floor. His heart was beating so hard it drummed in his ears to make him miss what Sebastian had said. The bed dipped and Sebastian tucked himself behind Kurt as had become their custom.

“I said, are you okay?”

“Oh. Y-yeah.” Kurt blew out a long breath and let himself relax and feel Sebastian’s hand, slipping around his waist.

“We can take it slow,” Sebastian whispered, placing a kiss to the back of Kurt’s neck. It was the first they’d shared. Another was laid over the knob of his spine and Kurt wondered if Sebastian’s lips tasted like the bitter beer or like the sweetness of the relish dip they’d shared over dinner. The thought readied him for more.

“Okay,” he said and Sebastian pressed up against him, rolling his hips to let Kurt feel him. “You’re- You’re not wearing anything,” Kurt whispered in shock.

“You don’t have to either.”

Kurt’s mind blanked out for a second at the implication but he managed to stutter out, “O-okay,” and helped shuffle his pants off, using his feet to push them to the end of the bed.

“Here,” Sebastian said quietly and tugged him closer, letting the velvety heat of his cock slide up the length of Kurt’s crack. “Like this.” He stayed still, letting Sebastian move against him, sliding his shaft back and forth between his cheeks. “Okay?” Sebastian asked and Kurt hummed, pushing his ass backward, arching his back as a hand gripped his hip to guide his movements. “So good, babe…” Sebastian gasped as they worked together to get a rhythm going. His teeth pressed into Kurt’s shoulder and he groaned out, “Let me touch you.”

“Yes,” Kurt panted out and immediately felt Sebastian’s broad hand wrap around his aching erection. “Oh my god,” he whimpered and thrust forward into the fist. He lost contact with Sebastian’s body and focused on the touch of someone else’s hand jerking him off.

“Just let me…” Sebastian shifted closer, pressing Kurt into the mattress and slotting his dick between Kurt’s sweat slick thighs, and then hooking his leg over top. He slid his hand back around Kurt’s cock and pumped as he thrust steadily. “Yeah. _Fuck.”_   Sebastian’s fingers squeezed him tight, his hips breaking into a frantic, off-kilter tempo with every drag of his dick between his legs. Kurt strained to pump his hips in an effort to get the friction he needed.

“Oh,” he groaned. He was so close. He just needed Sebastian’s hand to move properly.

 _“OH,”_   Sebastian echoed and suddenly come splattered against the back of Kurt’s thighs. “Oh my…god,” Sebastian whispered and pushed himself through to coat Kurt’s inner thighs as well. “Time to come now, babe. Let me make you feel this good. Uh,” he groaned, still thrusting slowly between Kurt’s legs. His hand loosened and resumed a steady stroke, pulling Kurt closer and closer to the edge.

“Yeah. _Oh_. _Yes,”_   Kurt hissed as he lost control and spilled onto the sheet beneath him.

He lay against the down pillow under his cheek and dragged in a few ragged breaths while Sebastian moved away. He soon felt the roughness of the discarded towel wiping at his thighs. He rolled onto his back when Sebastian tugged at his shoulder, and grinned goofily up at him when Sebastian leaned over to wipe at the damp sheet and drop the towel back over the side of the bed.

“C’mere, killer,” Sebastian said softly and pulled Kurt to lie against his chest were he promptly fell asleep.

When Kurt awoke the next morning, the sun was already high in sky and he was alone in bed. He grinned to himself and decided he should find Sebastian to see if they could try that again. He pulled on a terry cloth robe and wandered downstairs only to find Sebastian in the den arguing with someone over the phone. Trying not to disturb him, Kurt hesitated at the doorway and hung back, hearing only the acidic, angry words that Sebastian was spitting out about having to keep harmony in order to access his trust fund. Kurt backed off, deciding not to eavesdrop any further, and padded up the stairs as quietly as he could in order to clean up.

Freshly showered and dressed, Kurt headed back downstairs and found Sebastian in the kitchen looking grim while clutching a cup of coffee and listening to the [radio](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/97463094335/the-mills-brothers-i-wish-1944-i-wish-that-you).

“Good morning,” Kurt said warmly and went to fetch his own cup. “Is everything all right?”

Sebastian laughed bitterly. “No. No. It is not all right.” Kurt paused with the coffee pot in hand and set it down.

“Is there anything I can do to make it better?” he asked quietly, stopping beside Sebastian to lay a hand on his shoulder.

“God,” Sebastian sighed. “I wish. Come…Come here,” Sebastian said and pulled Kurt to sit across his lap. “Look, there’s no easy way to say this.” He looked up at Kurt, his eyes full of regret. “Harmony’s on her way over. I- I thought I’d have more time,” he confessed and Kurt shook his head in confusion. “I’m- Shit, Kurt. I’m sorry it has to be like this.”

“What are you talking-?” Kurt was cut off at the crash of the front door being flung open.

“Sebastian!” A shrill female voice shrieked, echoing through the old house.

“Fuck!” Sebastian pushed Kurt off and stood, putting Kurt behind him as a very short, voluptuous young woman barged into the kitchen.

“SEBASTIAN HAMISH SYMTHE, how _dare_ you hide from me!” She roared. “We’re getting married in three months and _this_ is your idea of wedding planning? By avoiding me? By sneaking back into your parent’s house and hiding from my family?” The young woman rounded on Sebastian like she was cornering prey and Kurt couldn’t catch his breath at the revelation that Sebastian had a fiancée.

“And who’s this?” she demanded, pushing Sebastian aside to see Kurt. “Is this who you’ve been playing house with this whole time?” she snarled, sounding revolted. “I thought you’d grown out of this- _this_ prep school filth! Honestly, what is _wrong_ with you! Why can’t you just be normal?” She tossed her curled auburn hair and turned about face, storming out of the kitchen.

Kurt stood stock still, ashen faced and shaken to the core. Sebastian quickly twisted to face him and grimaced.

“You’re- You’re-?” Kurt let the words he couldn’t say take up the space between them.

“Getting married. To Harmony,” Sebastian said grimly. “I have to. In order to access the rest of my inheritance.”

Kurt’s eyes searched the room looking for answers, his mind finally kicking into gear as his gaze fell upon the dirty dishes by the sink.

“But you said…You wanted me to stay here,” he said wretchedly. “With you.”

“I know. _Shit_. I know and I meant it. You could still stay…” he trailed off sounding hopeful.

“How could we _ever_ have a life if you’re _married_?” Kurt demanded to know. Sebastian’s nostrils flared and he clamped his mouth shut, seemingly at a loss for words. He looked as miserable as Kurt felt. “I can’t do this,” Kurt decided. “I can’t be here and be _this_.”

“Sebastian!” Harmony screeched again in full voice from somewhere upstairs.

“Kurt, please. I wish things were different…But, please understand,” Sebastian begged and reached out for him.

“I _can’t_ , Sebastian.” Kurt took a step backward, shaking his head.

“And don’t _think_ for a single second that I’m going to let you keep this place once we’re married!” Harmony stomped back into the kitchen red-faced and furious as she threw Sebastian’s dirtied towel at him. “This indecent, disgusting little love den has got to go!”

Sebastian let the towel fall to the floor as Kurt sidled towards the door. “Wait,” he mouthed at him.

“I can’t,”Kurt whispered and stepped out of sight, talking off into a run as soon as he heard Sebastian shout back at his fiancé.

“Would you be quiet, you infernal woman!”

Those were the last words Kurt would ever hear Sebastian say but, after he’d sprinted several blocks to a park where he stayed to clear his head, there was a message waiting for him at the hotel.

 _‘Kurt, please know that if there is anything I can do for you, I would try. To that end, I’ve made a call to a good friend of mine in New York to introduce you to the right people once you get home. Please look her up. S.’_  

Kurt folded the piece of paper with the Isabelle Wright’s name and phone number on it and tucked it away in his wallet. He couldn’t bear to think about Sebastian anymore. Instead, Kurt finally pulled out his suitcase. It was time to go home.

* * *

 


	8. Chapter 7: Summer 1948

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, a wealth of thanks to my betas manningstar and thetimesinbetween, and artist, the very wonderful, abritincanadatwo.

* * *

 

The city fit him like a stranger’s suit. Kurt wanted to pull at parts of himself until New York settled around his shoulders like the second skin it had once been. He stood on the sidewalk and rubbed his earlobe nervously while Pamela instructed her driver on the appropriate way to carry her luggage up to the penthouse of the tall apartment building on the Upper East Side.

Before he’d be able to leave Bridgeport earlier that Sunday morning, Pamela had rung and insisted that he accompany her on her latest foray to into the city. He’d quickly acquiesced. He was at a loose end with no actual plans in place to see any of his friends that day anyway. None of them knew of his return yet, and Kurt had already decided he would surprise Blaine at work sometime during the week. It was shortly after he’d accepted Pamela’s invitation, that Kurt found himself in the back of a town car speeding towards Manhattan. The matriarch of the Lansbury family had already made arrangements for Kurt to attend high tea with several of her friends, one of whom Sebastian had mentioned in his parting note.

Pamela cleared her throat in expectation and raised an eyebrow at Kurt’s dawdling at the curb. Beyond her, the doorman held the  stood at attention, gesturing through the entryway toward the grand hallway and Kurt quickly forgot about his own bags still in the car, letting Pamela whisk him up to the penthouse.

The apartment was nothing short of grand; from the front parlor to the dining room there were majestic high ceilings with elaborate cornicing. Gilt-framed portraits of regal looking ladies lined the walls and luxurious swathes of champagne colored raw silk framed every floor-to-ceiling window. Beyond the Louis XIV furnishings and parquet wooden floors, the French doors to the terrace were open and Kurt was drawn like a bee to the scent of sweet gardenias on the warm breeze.

Pamela introduced him first to a dainty red headed woman dressed in a pale yellow belted dress. “Kurt, this is Emma Howell. Emma is the secretary of our local chapter of the D.A.R. and my girl Friday with the Scholarship Committee,” Pamela said with pat to his arm. After squeezing Emma’s white lace gloved hand and greeting her with a warm smile, Kurt was led away. Pamela whispered, “She’s a lovely girl but she married a dentist of all things.” She walked Kurt towards the open doors and out to the terracotta tiled terrace and introduced him to a petite older woman who sat with her back to a hedge of flowering gardenias. “Isabelle, come and meet my dear new friend, Kurt Hummel. Sebastian thought the two of you would hit it off.”

“Oh. Hello.” A slim woman in her early fifties held her cigarette out of the way as they approached her table. She was dressed in a black blouse that was tucked into her extremely high-waisted monochromatic checkered skirt, with her light brown hair pulled back into a chignon. She cast her eyes over Kurt while Pamela spoke.

“Isabelle’s a writer with LIFE magazine. She did that marvelous piece on Christian Dior a few months ago.”

“H-Hello,” Kurt stammered and eagerly shook her hand. She squeaked in surprise but held on gamely. “I loved that piece on his New Look,” he gushed.

“Young Kurt here is a designer as well,” Pamela added with a fond smile and Isabelle’s gaze flicked over him once again, more critically this time.

“Oh, well, not exactly,” he tried to explain but was cut off by the arrival of a fourth woman.

“Mother?”

“There you are!” Pamela scolded as a tall, slender blonde strode across to them with her long straight hair blowing loose in the breeze. “It’s ten past. Honestly, Holly, you’d be late for your own wedding.”

“There’s little hope of that, Mother.” Holly rolled her eyes in Kurt’s direction but diligently leaned in to kiss Pamela’s cheek. Dressed in an off-white chiffon tie front top and houndstooth pencil skirt, Holly didn’t wait to be introduced. She shook Kurt’s hand with gusto.

“Holly Holiday, pleased to meet you,” the woman in her early thirties said in a rush. “You must be my mother’s new pet project,” she said with a wink before leaving Kurt speechless and moving away to kiss Isabelle on both cheeks and exclaim, “Izzy, darling!”

Pamela pursed her lips in displeasure and turned towards the apartment. “Shall we?” She asked Kurt, who offered his arm for her to take as they made their way back to the dining table. Emma set down the final tiered stand full of immaculately cut finger sandwiches and smiled as Kurt pulled out Pamela’s chair. Holly and Isabelle quickly took their places at the table and when Emma took her seat as well, Kurt was finally able to sit down. Silence prevailed  until Emma politely cleared her throat and offered to fill Pamela’s tea cup.

“Thank you for joining us, Holly. I haven’t seen you since you started your foray into teaching,” Emma said carefully, wincing as Pamela cast a heavy sigh.

“Oh, _that_.” Holly made a face and stuck her tongue out. “God. What was I thinking?” She sniggered and popped a raspberry into her mouth. “No…I’ve decided to return to my first love.”

“Ye gods, is that why you’re using that appalling name?” Pamela complained as she set her china cup down on its saucer. Kurt took a discreet bite of his tiny cream cheese and cucumber sandwich and listened with interest.

“Yes, Mother,” Holly replied stiffly. She directed her next comment to Kurt when she spotted his raised eyebrows. “It’s my stage name,” she explained.

“A-are you on stage or screen?” Kurt inquired politely.

“Well, funny you should ask,” Holly said with a coy look around the table. “As it happens, I’ve just swapped the stage for the small screen.” Her eyes darted between them all playfully, and then she flashed a smile and revealed her news. “I’m gonna be on television!” Emma gasped and Isabelle cried out in excitement as Holly laughed gleefully. “And you have to come. You _all_ have to come. Tonight,” she declared.

“Tonight?” Isabelle blurted out in surprise.

“You’ll come, won’t you? I have tickets for everyone!” Holly shot a pleading look at her mother. “I’m going to dance - on television.” Pamela sniffed and took another sip of her tea while the other ladies congratulated Holly and agreed to attend the show. “I’m sure Kurt would be happy to escort you,” Holly said to her mother, and shot an encouraging glance at Kurt.

“Of course I would,” Kurt chimed in. “It sounds exciting. After all, how many people can say they watched a television show being made?”

Pamela set her cup back down. “Oh, very well,” she said. “When is it, then?”

“Nine.” Pamela tipped her chin up and harrumphed.

“Ooh, we could make an evening out of it!” Isabelle suggested. “I’ll get us a table at Sardi’s and we can dress for dinner.”

“Yes! That would be perfect!” Emma clapped her hands together excitedly and Kurt agreed immediately also, thrilled at the prospect of a night out in the city with such glamorous people. By plunging into one social gathering after another, he hoped to feel more at ease being back here.

However, after the luncheon was over and Pamela’s car had dropped Kurt off at his old apartment, the oddity of walking into what had once been his home hit him. He set his new suitcases packed with fancy suits down and closed the door behind him, and then surveyed the lifeless apartment. It was unnerving. His whole life was laid out within three rooms. It seemed wrong to have missed such a simple space, considering he’d been living out of a modest hotel room for the better part of two months, and he realized then that he hadn’t missed this place at all. It certainly wasn’t his bed or the city he’d been longing for. No, the ache in his chest, that hollow feeling…it wasn’t a place or a _thing_ that had continually plucked his heartstrings. It was Blaine. It had always been Blaine.

The memory of sending Blaine off after their last night together tugged at him and regret spiraled within him at not being able to let Blaine know sooner that he was back in the city. Unfortunately, the letter he’d posted only this morning in Bridgeport wouldn’t arrive for a week.

It would have felt right, having Blaine here, welcoming him home. But…maybe it was too late now. Kurt had virtually cast him off during their separation, although that hadn’t been his intention, and now there was no telling what or who Blaine was involved with. The rising urge to run across town and find Blaine, to declare his feelings crashed upon Kurt like a tidal wave, and he found himself backed up against the door, his hand on the knob, ready to go. He forced himself to take a breath, and another, but the stuffiness in the apartment was suddenly overbearing and the sensation of walls closing in on him jolted Kurt into action. He wrenched open the window in the living room and the one in his bedroom to let the stale air out and a modicum of a breeze in. He sat on his perfectly made bed, back straight, and ran through his mental list of things he needed to do as a distraction. Unpack, get a few groceries, and freshen up in time for dinner and then…then tomorrow, Monday, he’d go see about Blaine. 

* * *

 

“You’re coming tonight, right?” Sam asked as he rolled over and tossed his comic book onto the pile between him and Blaine. A slight breeze curled a few pages up, making them flap chaotically. Sam propped himself up on his elbows and reached out to flip the slim book over. The heat of the afternoon sun beat down on them as they lay out on a blanket on Blaine’s rooftop with his wireless radio relaying the Yankees versus the Senators in the background.

Laid out on his back, Blaine squinted into the sunshine. He set the comic he’d been reading down on his chest and teased his friend. “I guess. Will there actually be tickets this time?” The first time Sam had invited him and Cooper, they’d waited in line for nothing.

“Yeah. Definitely. I made Ira promise he wouldn’t give them to anyone else this time.”

“It’ll just be me then. Coop’s got plans and Pat’s in L.A.”

“But I already got you four tickets,” Sam groaned. “What about your loud girlfriend? I bet she could find some people to bring with you.”

“Rach?” Blaine hummed in thought but didn’t bother to correct his friend.  “She’s probably busy.” It was too last minute to call on a lady. Blaine sighed. “I dunno. I’ll see what I can do.” He wished, not for the first time since summer started, that Kurt was around. He’d probably be thrilled to go to a show like this.

“Cool. I don’t need Ira on my back about it, yammering on about how he woulda found enough people on his own, you know?”

Blaine closed his eyes, only half listening to his friend. “Uh huh.”

“I mean, most of the time, Ira’s really great. He gets on really well with Mr. Sullivan and the guests and…Oh hey, did I tell ya who’s on tonight?” Blaine shook his head as Sam carried on. “Joe DiMaggio!”

“What? You’re pulling my leg, right?” Blaine chuckled. Cooper was going to have a fit when he found out. His older brother idolized the baseball player. It was the reason he was going to be busy this evening. He’d gone along to today’s game at Yankee Stadium with friends and they’d planned a party afterwards, providing the Yankees won of course.

_“…Strikeout! And Bud Stewart’s gone, folks. Karl Drews finally got one at the top of the sixth but the Yankees have a long way to go to win this one,”_ the radio commentator rattled on in the background.

“What sort of a mood do you think DiMaggio’ll be in if they lose today?” Blaine rolled over and took a sip of his glass of water.

Sam chuckled. “Dunno. “I’m kinda glad Ira has to wrangle ‘im.”

“You chicken-shit,” Blaine said with a laugh and flicked a few droplets at his friend.

“Am not!” Sam sprayed some of his own luke-warm soda back and readied himself to escape quickly.

“Are too!” Blaine flung what water was left in his glass at Sam as he got to his feet, hitting him square in the face.

“Argh! You’re gonna pay, Anderson!” Sam tossed his sticky soda in Blaine’s direction but missed and volleyed the empty can at his retreating form. It bounced off the concrete in the wrong direction and hurtled down four stories to the street below. In shock, Blaine leaned over the edge of his building, peered downward and cringed.

“Uh. Sorry, Mr. Kanengeiser!” Blaine shouted down to the disgruntled old man as Sam burst out laughing and hid behind him. Blaine turned away and started to giggle at Sam’s cowering form. “See? Chicken-shit,” he declared with satisfaction.

* * *

 

Camera mounts blocked much of Kurt’s view of the production team that had assembled off the side of the stage. An enthusiastic young blond man, who insisted on being addressed as Sam, led the way up into the bleachers. Upon finding their row, Kurt stood aside and let the ladies take their seats in the center first. Emma, Pamela and Isabelle filed into the row and Kurt followed suit, letting the people waiting behind him fill up the rest of the seats.

They were earlier than they had intended but Holly had needed to be here before show time to change and warm up with the other Toastettes. Kurt had cringed when he’d been told the name of her small dance troupe and thankfully Holly had laughed, agreeing that it wasn’t very appealing. As soon as they arrived, Holly had skipped off to greet two of the cameramen before joining the gathered crew.

Sam was back quickly with another group whom he seated closer to the front. He was soon joined by a slighter man who, although obviously in his early twenties, was showing signs of baldness that he was trying to hide by brushing his hair forward. Kurt watched him tell Sam what to do next, gesturing to a small group of women surrounding a lone dark haired man on the far side of the stage. Kurt tracked Sam’s movements across the space, smiling as he shooed away the women, sending them off in Holly’s direction just as the production crew’s meeting broke up. Kurt twisted in his seat trying to get a glimpse of the mystery man in the wings but failed to see past a couple who chose that moment to take their seats in front of him. Beside him, Isabelle leaned in and pointed out a few faces that she knew, some in the audience and others near the stage.

“Oh! Look, there’s Frank. His wife, Mitzi, is a demon when it comes set styling,” Isabelle added, motioning to an older gentleman who had stepped through the curtain where the huddle of women had been moments earlier. “He’s a photographer. They met on a shoot. It’s a darling story and they’re disgustingly cute together, even after all these years,” she gossiped until a curly haired blond man caught her attention. “Ah. And that…well, that’s their son. He’s Frank’s assistant these days.” Kurt frowned at the young man who was smiling at something his father had said.  He looked vaguely familiar but Kurt couldn’t place him. “He’s engaged, and that’s a story in its own right,” Isabelle continued to chat away. “She’s not Jewish,” she added. Kurt looked down to his hands where they were resting in his lap as he thought back to Sebastian’s fiancée and how the mere state of being engaged was not the refuge from drama that most thought it to be. “I wonder who that is,” Isabelle speculated and Kurt glanced up to see who she was referring to.

“ _Blaine_ ,” he breathed out in surprise as the man he’d been pining for hours earlier jogged up alongside Frank’s son.

“You know him?” Isabelle inquired, shooting a curious glance at Kurt. He nodded, still feeling dazed.

“That’s Blaine Anderson.” Kurt’s heart hammered in his chest as he remembered where he’d seen Blaine’s companion before. He was the blond from the YMCA. Kurt gulped in another breath and squeezed his hands into fists while images of the blond leaning over and sucking Blaine as he came flashed before his eyes. Kurt gripped his thighs in order to stop himself from flying down the stairs and pushing him away from Blaine.

“Is he a performer?” Isabelle asked but Kurt shook his head. “Actor?” He tried to look away from the stage but all he could think of was the memory of Blaine’s hands holding the guy’s hips, Blaine taking him in his mouth and sucking.

“N-no.” He squeezed his eyes shut to rid himself of the recollection. How could he have forgotten the man that had stopped Kurt in his tracks that night? He had been on the verge of going to Blaine when the blond had virtually crawled into Blaine’s lap, taking all of his attention.

“Huh. He has the looks for it.” Kurt hummed in agreement. There was no denying Blaine was handsome. Kurt opened his eyes, searching him out immediately. A grin blossomed on Blaine’s face as the blond bumped their shoulders together while they walked towards the bleachers. “An old friend of yours, I take it?” Isabelle asked.

“Pardon?” Kurt grudgingly pulled his gaze away from Blaine to look at her. “Oh. Yeah. Yes, we’re good friends.”

“Let’s call them over,” Isabelle suggested enthusiastically. She raised her hand and waved at Frank, trying to get his attention.

“I- No!” Kurt looked at her. He was aghast at the idea of having to make awkward conversation with Blaine, let alone someone who he knew to have been his lover, especially when all Kurt wanted was to be the one with Blaine. There was so much to be said between them. Who was this man to Blaine now? Could he bear it if they were together and keep a civil tongue in his head? Or would he lose control of his spite and admit how far things had gone with Sebastian?

Isabelle’s hand faltered. She let it fall to her lap but looked at Kurt expectantly. He sucked in a shaky breath and managed to say, “I-I haven’t seen him since I left town. This isn’t the reunion I had planned.”

“I’m sure he won’t mind.” She smiled conspiratorially and started to sneak her hand back into the air. Kurt quickly laid his hand on her forearm.

“But I would,” Kurt said seriously. Isabelle relented and she took his hand in hers to pat it.

“Alright.” Her gaze darted between the men moving to their seats and back to Kurt. “Perhaps once you boys have caught up, you’ll come along to one of my parties.” Kurt breathed a sigh of relief, glad that she’d relinquished her plan.

“Of course.” He smiled at her warmly and clasped her hand a little tighter. “That sounds delightful.” Ready for a change of topic, he asked, “Now, tell me about Paris. I’m dying to know everything.” Isabelle’s eyes widened as her enthusiasm reignited and Kurt listened dutifully while she recounted her experiences from the French city. From the corner of his eye, he still managed to keep tabs on Blaine, his lover and Frank where they sat in the front row of the audience. As the [band started up](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/102157436615/all-dressed-up-with-a-broken-heart-peggy-lee) to entertain the audience as members of the crew darted back and forth to get the cameras in place and the cables out of the way, Kurt continued to torture himself with constant glances to the back of Blaine’s head.

Thankfully, the show served as an almost perfect distraction. Ed Sullivan was a consummate professional as his Toast of the Town were introduced on what was only his third show. Kurt smiled and laughed along when the host interviewed a celebratory Joe DiMaggio and Mr. Bojangles himself, Bill Robinson, and remembered to applaud for Holly when the Toastettes came on to do their number. However, once the show came to a close and everyone exited the studio to mill about on the sidewalk, Kurt quickly made his apologies and hailed a cab to take him home.

“I’m sorry, ladies. I’m just not feeling all that well. Please excuse me.” He had his hand on the taxi’s door before anyone could protest, or before Blaine could spot him through the thinning crowd.

“You promised to come shopping with me tomorrow,” Pamela reminded him sternly.

“And I shall,” Kurt promised. “Thank you for a lovely evening. I’m only sorry I can’t see you home safely.” Isabelle waved his concerns off immediately by pointing out Pamela’s approaching town car.

Kurt slammed the cab door and gave the driver his address. He slumped back into the leather seat in relief at having made a clean getaway. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to control his tongue if Blaine had seen him and insisted they catch up with his companion in tow. Of course, Blaine might have seen him already tonight and decided not to get his attention. Clearly he’d found some happiness in Kurt’s absence with that blond oaf, although he had to wonder who was using who. According to Isabelle, the guy had a fiancée, and yet Kurt had seen him be intimate with Blaine. Trying to understand how their relationship worked made his head spin. Was it akin to Brody and Kitty’s open marriage? Perhaps they both slept with who they wished. Or was it similar to Sebastian’s farcical situation? Was he hiding Blaine from his intended wife and vice versa, allowing him to use Blaine sexually without fallout. Or did Blaine know and simply not care? Perhaps Blaine was only out for himself, to find pleasure with any willing partner.

Kurt’s heart sank. Two of those three scenarios painted Blaine as happy with him. Maybe Kurt should let him be. Maybe Kurt would mess it all up if he came back into Blaine’s life now. But his heart hurt at the thought of not having Blaine in his life at all, and it was all he could do to not cry in the back of the cab. When the taxi pulled up to his place, Kurt handed over the fare and stepped out into the relative quiet of the night. There were still a few lights on in his street; people were getting ready for Monday morning, arguing, singing to each other, making love with one another. He wanted that. To be able to make a life with someone. To make a life with Blaine.

The voices in his head peppered him with suggestions and eventually Kurt relented, letting his apartment door close behind him. Tomorrow he would shop with Pamela as promised but then he’d drop in on the girls at work. If he happened to also phone Blaine’s office while at the exchange and Blaine wanted to see him, well…Kurt couldn’t be held accountable for what might follow.

* * *

 

The phone rang, interrupting Hunter’s spiel to the would-be inventor sitting in front of his desk.

“One moment,” Hunter put his finger up to silence the excitable cretin as he lifted the earpiece from its cradle. “U.S. Patent Office. How may I help you?” A clear high-pitched voice asked for Blaine. “I’m sorry. He’s indisposed this afternoon, miss,” he replied and waited as there was a jumble of whispering at the other end of the line.

“But he is in the office?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Would you please ask him to call EX 9-4440 and ask for Mr. Weston at his earliest convenience?”

“Certainly.” He jotted down the number. “May I ask what it’s regarding?”

“Just have him call as soon as possible, sir.” Hunter looked at the phone in surprise as the call clicked off abruptly. He scribbled down the name the woman had mentioned and set the message aside. It could wait until he’d dealt with _the ever-present Mr._ Kosnowski at his desk.

* * *

 

“What if he doesn’t call?” Kurt groaned and laid his head on his forearms. He stared at the Exchange’s break room Formica tabletop with unblinking eyes. Up until now, his day had gone as planned. He’d even accepted an invitation for a second day of shopping with Pamela, for clothing items rather than home décor, and he’d been added to the guest list for a mid-week cocktail party that Isabelle was throwing.

Marley smoothed her hand over Kurt’s tense shoulders to comfort him. “He will,” she reassured. Kurt glanced up at her in time to see her share a concerned look with Brody across from them. “I-I left a message for him to ring back immediately.”

“But that was twenty minutes ago,” he complained, knowing that there was nothing more she could have done. He dropped his head back to his arms and huffed in frustration.

“How long are you gonna wait?” Brody asked and took a sip from his coffee mug.

“Ten minutes? An hour? Forever? I don’t know,” he grumbled.

“Boy, you’ve got it bad,” Marley sighed. Brody subtly jerked his head towards the door and she nodded in agreement, leaving them alone while she went back to the cordboard.

“She’s right, y’know,” Brody mused. He checked the doorway to make sure they were by themselves. “You’ve really got it bad for this guy.”

“I know,” Kurt bemoaned, sounding muffled.

“I thought you were seeing someone while you were away.” Kurt propped his head up and rolled his eyes.

“Kinda.”

“The last time we spoke, you quit your job to stick it out with him,” Brody pointed out but Kurt shook his head.

“That wasn’t why I quit. He…Sebastian, he wanted me there and I- I-” Kurt heaved a sigh and admitted, “I wanted to be wanted.”

“What happened?”

“His crazy fiancée busted in on us after we, um…” Kurt tilted his head and smiled crookedly.

“Ho-oh, wow.” Brody’s eyes twinkled as he broke into a grin.

“Oh shush, we didn’t even have _sex_ ,” Kurt dropped his voice to a whisper on the last word. “She barged in and ruined everything.”

“What- In the middle of it?”

“Huh? No! In the morning, you dingaling.”

“Then how did she ruin anything?” Brody asked curiously.

“Because neither of us knew the other existed until then?”

“Oh!”

“Yeah. Oh.”

“So, you’re heartbroken. But then where does this Blaine guy fit into all of this?”

Kurt hesitated, not wanting to appear callous. “…No. I’m not heartbroken. It’s Blaine I’ve been missing. Sebastian just kind of filled his space, distracting me.” Brody waggled his eyebrows at Kurt’s words.

“He filled up your Blaine-sized space, huh?” Kurt’s eyes became saucer-wide and his hand flew across his mouth.

“You are so _dirty_ ,” Kurt gasped out.

“Please,” Brody said with a smug smile. “That isn’t even close to what we talked about that night out.”

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t bring that up,” he groaned. “Blaine’s seeing a guy he met there. I saw them that night.”

“Wait, is that why you took off on us?”

Kurt grimaced. “Sorry. How’s Elliot anyway?”

“Fine. More than fine, actually,” Brody said wistfully.

“You guys still…?”

“A few times but he doesn’t like that I’m married.” Kurt hummed thoughtfully. He knew how it felt to be on the outside of another intimate relationship.

“Brody!” Marley shouted and appeared through the doorway looking excited. “There’s someone on the line for you!”

“Is it..?” Kurt asked hopefully.

“I’m not sure,” she said with a worried expression. “Quinn took the call.” Kurt scrambled to his feet and hurried down the hall with Brody hot on his heels.

“Put it through to my office,” Brody called out, letting him run ahead. Kurt skidded through the doorway as the phone rang on Brody’s desk. He gripped the handset, ready to hear Blaine’s voice, but first he had to swallow down his nerves and calm his heavy breathing.

“H-hello?”

“Mr. Weston? This is Ted Williams. I received a message to call you.”

“Oh.” Kurt let his eyes slip shut and let out a shaky breath. “One moment please.” Kurt held the receiver out for Brody to take. “It’s um, it’s Mr. Williams. For you.” He handed the phone off and took a few small steps before slumping down in a chair. The sting of disappointment was still fresh when Brody replaced the phone in its cradle.

“Why don’t you stick around a while, Kurt? It’s about time for Quinn’s break anyway and you two moony-eyed lovebirds will be perfect company for each other.” Kurt sighed and checked his watch.

“Okay, sure.” He had nothing else to do for the next few hours but wait. “It’d be nice to catch up with her.”

“Go on, get outta here,” Brody said while shooing him out of his office. “I’ll find you if he calls and, if all else fails, I’ll give you a ride home later. Who knows, maybe I’ll even be able to convince you to take a detour to the Y with me. What? You gotta get back in the saddle some time.” Brody winked, grinning as Kurt’s mouth dropped in surprise. “And I’d like to see that,” he confessed. Kurt stared at him in shock until his catatonia morphed into a smirk. His eyes swept down Brody’s body and back up again slowly, taking his time in meeting his gaze. Brody barked out a laugh. “Quit it. You’re gonna make _me_ blush.”

* * *

 

Hunter rapped his knuckles against the doorframe of the spare office and Blaine’s head popped up from behind the typewriter.

“You’ve got a call to return, hot shot.”

“Oh?” Blaine glanced at the clock and wondered who’d be calling after five.

Hunter rolled his eyes and crumpled the message up into a ball. “You better get on that. They called hours ago.”

“What? Why didn’t you say something earlier?” Blaine demanded as Hunter tossed the wad of paper in direction of the desk. Blaine floundered to catch it unsuccessfully, watching it bounce off the wall and roll to a stop halfway between them.

Hunter looked down his nose at Blaine before announcing, “Gotta go. Hot date.” He swung his jacket over his shoulder and sauntered off. With a sigh, Blaine pushed his chair back to go and retrieve the message.

He re-took his seat and smoothed out the crinkled paper. “Mr. Weston?” Blaine murmured to himself, not recognizing the name at all.

“Who?” Adam asked, appearing suddenly at the spare office’s doorway.

Blaine waved the message in the air. “Oh, I have a message to call a Mr. Weston. Is he one of the lawyers?”

“Nope. Don’t know him, sorry. But speaking of lawyers, you’re on track to finish on Thursday, aren’t you?”

“I’m still wrangling with this old thing,” he motioned to the typewriter in front of him. “But yes, I’ll definitely finish by Thursday.”

“Excellent. Be sure to find me when you do.”

“I will, sir.”

“Good, good. Well, don’t spend all night here, Blaine. A young man like yourself? You’re bound to have plenty of prospects, go and have some fun.”

“I won’t- Uh, I mean…I will, Mr. Crawford.” Blaine waited until Adam left before reading the short message once more. He tapped his fingers in an aimless rhythm on the desk while he considered the phone number. It seemed familiar yet…not. Taking the piece of paper with him, he headed out to his desk, grabbed the telephone from Hunter’s side and dialed the number. It might be too late in the day to reach this guy but he figured it was better to try his luck now rather than wait until tomorrow. Besides he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was significant. Hunter was beginning to become a thorn in his side, doing whatever he could to rile Blaine up lately. This morning, he’d spilled coffee over the cover of the freshly typed up manual, forcing Blaine to do it all over again. It made sense that if Hunter had been holding onto this message for hours, it had been vital that he return the call.

A woman answered the phone. “Good evening, University Exchange. How may I direct your call?”

“Oh! Uh. I had a message to call a Mr. Weston?”

“I’m sorry but Mr. Weston has left for the day. You could try him again tomorrow after nine,” she said.

“Oh. Yes, okay. Thank you,” Blaine replied, still puzzled over who Mr. Weston was and why he needed to speak with him. “Oh, wait!” He called out but it was too late. The line went dead.

Left with an uneasy feeling that he had missed something important, Blaine headed back to the spare office to type up more of his procedural manual. If he put in an extra hour tonight, he should be able to get ahead of schedule.

It wasn’t until Blaine had finished for the evening and had locked his manuscript away that he wondered if the call coming from the University Exchange had anything to do with Kurt. It was his former workplace. He quickly discarded the notion. Kurt was still ensconced in Bridgeport. At least, that was what his last letter had said and, seeing as he hadn’t heard from Kurt in the past two weeks, he figured nothing had changed.

* * *

 

Kurt shook hands and smiled politely with each new guest that Isabelle introduced him to. He fondly shook his head as they parted ways, amused at how familiar the routine was. The well-to-do parties in Bridgeport were barely different from the ones thrown in Manhattan, although the setting of Pamela’s penthouse felt more ostentatious. The parade of the well heeled was never ending, and Kurt found himself enjoying Isabelle’s quick wit and sharp tongue, especially when she whispered snippets of gossip as they made their rounds. It was little wonder that Sebastian had thought them a good pair. If things hadn’t of ended the way they did that day, Kurt would be of a mind to send him a thank you card for the introduction. However, Kurt suspected that upon Pamela’s return to Connecticut, she would quickly fill Sebastian in on the details, and to let the matter rest there, Kurt would need to ensure that Pamela was aware of how much he appreciated Isabelle’s hospitality and camaraderie. 

“Kurt, my dear boy.” Pamela took his arm when Isabelle was waylaid by another guest. “You simply must meet this marvelous lady,” she said but Kurt listened with only half an ear, focusing instead on a tray of canapés that passed him by. His stomach growled in protest. Unfortunately Pamela clutched his arm tightly, keeping him from following the food. But when another waiter drifted close by with a tray full of pink champagne, Kurt quickly collected a fresh drink in order to nibble at the strawberry perched on the rim and then turned his attention to the petite woman they were heading for.

“Oh my word, Pamela,” Kurt exclaimed. “Is that-? Oh my god, it is!” Pamela merely smiled and pulled up in front of a woman he had admired for years.

“Kurt, may I present the stylish-as-ever Hattie Carnegie.” Kurt stood there, agog at the tiny woman before him. Standing at four foot nine, her short ash blonde hair was curled away from her face, giving the sixty year old a serene classical look. Strand upon strand of pearls lay at her throat and softened the bright turquoise of her blouse beneath her grey and white suit, also lined in turquoise. “Hattie, this is Kurt Hummel. He’s a designer who, up until recently, was working with my husband’s firm,” Pamela said sweetly but did a double take at someone she’d seen from the corner of her eye. “ _Oh_ _my_. He’s here! Please, do excuse me.” She swept through another group of partygoers, and headed for the foyer, leaving Kurt alone with the famous fashion designer.

Hattie took stock of Kurt quickly and he was glad to have dressed in the maroon velvet dinner jacket he had tailored himself for the evening out with Blaine so many months ago. In a clipped Germanic accent, she asked him, “A designer of what, exactly?”

Kurt’s shoulders fell and he quickly confessed. “I’m not really a designer.” Hattie fixed him with a stern look.

“Neither am I,” she contended. “I can barely sew a stitch, but look how far that’s gotten me.” Her eyes softened and she broke into a sly grin. “If you tell people _not_ to believe in you, they’ll do exactly as they’re told. But if you tell them _what_ to do, then be prepared to be giving orders for a lifetime.”

“Is that how it happened for you?” Kurt asked curiously. The LIFE magazine article he’d read in March didn’t go into the specifics of Hattie’s start in the fashion world. Instead, it had focused more on the success of ‘the little Carnegie suit’ that was a woman’s must-have in her closet and Hattie’s formidable business acumen.

“Yes, something like that. I was just a girl - fifteen or sixteen at the time and I happened to be in Macy’s. I told them to add white fur cuffs and a collar to a black evening gown to make it more interesting. Of course, the sales clerk told me I was crazy and laughed me out of the store. But...I had the last laugh when they tried it and it sold out. They sought me out and offered me a job immediately.” She laughed gaily and Kurt joined in while smoke from Hattie’s cigarette holder snaked towards the ceiling between them. He listened closely, fascinated by the entrepreneur as she continued. “I got my real start a few years later. In hats,” Hattie said. “It was the perfect thing for me – being able to add a flourish here or to change a shape there.” She put her cigarette holder to her lips and Kurt took the opportunity to drain his glass, hoping the bubbles would bolster his courage. “So, Mr. Hummel. Tell me again. You’re a designer of what, exactly?”

Kurt took a deep breath and pictured Blaine’s proud face as he shook his hand, first at the patent office upon hearing his idea and then later, congratulating Kurt on lodging the patent.

“I’ve designed a mechanical device,” he said aloud, still thinking of Blaine. “And, with a little help from a friend, I patented it.” Kurt’s thoughts switched to Sebastian, remembering how pleased he was with getting Kurt to sign with his company, and how it felt to be officially congratulated by him in front of the board of directors later on. Kurt squared his shoulders and said proudly, “Actually, I’ve just returned from having sold the manufacturing rights upstate.”

“That’s more like it,” Hattie said with a satisfied gleam in her eye. “And what does this device do?” Kurt’s bravery wavered. What would someone as elegant as Hattie Carnegie care about a tire chain?

“Um, it’s a locking device, predominantly. For a snow chain. On tires.” Hattie arched her eyebrow but said nothing as Kurt battled to get the words out in the right order. He took another fortifying breath. “It’s an adjustable tire chain, locking into place but allowing you to quickly adjust it on the fly in winter.” He sighed and looked into the bottom of his empty glass, wishing fruitlessly that a hole would open in the ground below it and swallow him whole.

“And what of fashion, Mr. Hummel? Do you dabble in fashion as well?” She eyed the altered slim lapel of his jacket. He glanced down self-consciously, knowing the current fashion was nothing less than broad and flared but he wasn’t about to apologize for his sense of style.

“Somewhat. I love to play with anything textural. Velvet, beads, stones, trim,” Kurt admitted quietly. “Working with a silhouette and making it more…me.” It wasn’t something he could own up to while growing up in Ohio but here, in such a bohemian environment; he felt safe enough to disclose his hobby.

“Good,” Hattie said admiringly. “I prefer detail myself. The right draping or pleat here or there, making it sleek or adding a touch of sparkle. It’s why I still make hats and jewelry. Details-”

“Can make or break an outfit,” Kurt finished for her.

She paused and put her cigarette holder back to her lips. “Young man, I think you ought to come by the shop.”

“Oh. Pamela and I were just there today.”

“In the Blue Room?” She enquired but Kurt shook his head.

“No, upstairs. For a fitting.”

“Ah. Well then, you will come back and see me in the Blue Room.”

“Which- Um, which is the Blue Room?” Kurt asked uncertain of which shop she meant. The block on 49th Street was quickly becoming a veritable mall dedicated to Hattie’s empire.

“It is the backbone, my young friend. Prêt-a-porter,” she confirmed. “I will take you on a tour of the details,” she offered and Kurt looked at her like a stunned fish, eyes glazed over and mouth open. “I will see you there, yes?”

“Y-yes! It would be my honor. Truly,” he said and grasped her offered hand to squeeze. Kurt made his way to the bar once they parted, and he leaned against it while his bearings returned.  Of all the people to meet tonight, he could scarcely believe that a legend like her would invite him to peek behind the scenes of her business.

Someone in the background changed the [record](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/102157465080/buddy-and-ella-johnson-since-i-fell-for-you) while Kurt signaled for another glass of champagne. This was definitely a cause for celebration. There would be no one else here that could come close to being as interesting as that woman.

“Oh! Kurt! There you _are_ ,” Isabelle called out. She wove her way through the crowd and towed someone by the arm behind her.

“Kurt, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine,” Isabelle said and tugged at the elbow of a tall dark haired man who came to a jerky halt at her side and grinned broadly at Kurt.

“ _This_ is Cooper Anderson,” she said smugly and waited for Kurt’s reaction but when there was nothing more than a furrowing of eyebrows, she carried on, “Coop, this is the clever clogs I was telling you about, Kurt Hummel.”

“Kurt-”

“…Anderson?”

“ _Hummel._ ”

Isabelle rolled her eyes. “Great, you already know one another.” Kurt kept his eyes on Cooper who stood motionless and frowning, but he couldn’t utter a word. “Say, I’m thirsty…” Isabelle hinted and yet neither man moved a muscle. She sighed. “No, no. Don’t move. I’ll get it,” she grumbled and walked off, leaving them alone.

Kurt broke the silence between them and asked hopefully, “You wouldn’t happen to be related to-?”

“Why haven’t you told my brother you’re back in town?” Cooper demanded to know. Kurt flinched at the vehement tone and immediately went on the defensive.

“I- I did!”

“Nuh uh. He would’ve told me.”

“I wrote. And I left a messa- Wait a minute! He would? Why would he-?”

Cooper quickly glanced around them and hustled Kurt off to the side of the room to gain a little privacy. “Of course he would. He’s _crazy_ about you.”

“What?” Kurt asked in a daze.

“He’s been head over heels for you since the day he met you,” Cooper whispered intently.

Kurt gasped, feeling faint at the realization that Blaine felt more than pure attraction towards him. He _knew_ that Blaine had been willing to kiss him, and that the missed opportunity to try for it had been his own fault, crippled by his inexperience, but he’d never expected that Blaine would want anything more than _one_ night with him. He knew that Blaine could find that sort of satisfaction with any of the hundred men that frequented the YMCA, and he’d already demonstrated that he was happy to do so with at least one, so it had been easier to not pursue anything more. It wasn’t that Kurt didn’t want to give in those same lustful desires, particularly with Blaine. In fact, it would be easy to lose himself in the pleasure of being _with_ Blaine but he’d never been after a single fleeting moment of passion with him. Not as a way to appease his loneliness, as it had been with Sebastian. Or to be kept as someone’s secret. He wanted it all – and he wanted it with Blaine. Kurt’s eyes flickered as he reeled with the enormity of what Cooper had said. He _could_ have had it all. He could have been with Blaine this entire time.

“I’ve never heard him talk about _anyone_ the way he talks about you,” Cooper growled. “But it’s like you’ve forgotten about him.”

“No,” Kurt whined. “He’s why I’m here,” he insisted but his thoughts flashed back to seeing Blaine three nights ago and he frowned, remembering how happy Blaine had been with the other guy.

“You’re here but you still haven’t spoken to him,” Cooper pointed out.

“I don’t- I don’t understand,” Kurt said softly.

Cooper frowned. “What’s not to understand?”

“If he wants-” Kurt stopped himself and said miserably, “Cooper, I think he’s with _someone_ _else_ now.”

“What! Who?”

Kurt shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “Some blond. I saw them. I- I got back on Sunday and we went out to a television taping and I saw him- them. I don’t know his name,” he replied. “But I’ve seen them together before.”

“Television? But…they’ve only just met. I was there when he introduced himself to Blaine.”

“Trust me. They know one another - intimately. I saw them with my own two eyes.”

“On Sunday?”

“No. Before I left.”

“Well, shit. I didn’t realize that he swung that way,” Cooper said and trailed off, apparently deep in thought.

“Listen Kurt, sorry about getting on your case. Blaine’s my kid brother – it’s my job to look out for him.” Kurt nodded in understanding even though his heart was heavy in his chest. Cooper nudged his arm. “Even if you two don’t uh, you know, he misses you. He’s been moping around my house for weeks, using the phone to leave messages at your hotel, so you should go see him. He’d love that. I know he would.”

“I guess.” Again, Kurt’s thoughts raced through the possibilities of why he hadn’t heard from Brody at all. His former manager might have been at home with the ‘flu or Blaine might never have received the message in the first place. Or perhaps because the message didn’t mention him at all, Blaine hadn’t bothered to call back, not realizing that Kurt had foolishly pinned his hopes on hearing from him. However, it was his last idea that filled him with dread. Perhaps Blaine _had_ returned the call but had told Brody that he didn’t want to get in touch with him.

Cooper frowned at his hesitation. “I thought you cared about him?”

“I do,” Kurt maintained. His thoughts were a swirl of panic. If Blaine cared as much for him as Cooper had said, why would he not want to seek Kurt out? Providing he knew Kurt was back, he reasoned. There was a strong possibility that he truly didn’t know that Kurt was in the city.

His stomach sank. He’d been such an idiot! Trying to play a game he didn’t know the rules of in order to surprise Blaine. He squeezed his hand into a fist, his nostrils flaring as he inwardly berated himself.

“So much so, that you’re hiding from him?”

Kurt’s head jerked up and he spluttered with indignation. “I am not hiding!”

“Then what are you doing here when you could be over at his place?”

Guilt twisted in Kurt’s gut but the annoyance he felt at his own stupidity colored his words. “I wouldn’t want to intrude, given the company he’s taken to keeping these days,” he said with a sniff.

“Oh, give me a break!” Cooper complained. “You’re not even gonna fight for him?” Kurt shrugged half-heartedly and Blaine’s brother threw his hands up in the air, taking a step backwards. “You know what, Kurt? Maybe he’s better off without you around,” Cooper said derisively, jabbing a finger in his direction.

Kurt gasped in horror at the suggestion. “How dare you!” He admonished, but Cooper simply huffed and walked away. “You take that back,” Kurt called out and started to follow him. “Don’t you walk away from me!” He quickly caught the attention of nearby party goers and immediately stopped in his tracks. “Dammit!” He whispered furiously and took a shaky breath.

Cooper was right. He had been hiding, from Blaine, and from the truth of their situation.

Kurt checked his watch. Could he be so impertinent to show up on Blaine’s door step unannounced and so late in the evening? He set down his glass of warmed champagne, ready to take his leave of the party. He spun on his heel, only to walk straight into the path of Isabelle and Holly.

“Oh my gawd. What was that?” Holly quipped, nodding towards Cooper on the other side of the room.

“Yes! Spill!” Isabelle demanded eagerly.

Kurt shook his head, his hands waving in mid-air. “Oh no, no, no. It was nothing.”

“Don’t be such a brat,” Holly said with a roll of her eyes. “Tell us how you know Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome.”

“Uh huh. Talk, mister,” Isabelle said with a giggle and pressed a fresh drink into his hand.

“There’s nothing to say,” Kurt huffed. He took a long pull of his drink and hiccupped behind his hand. “Oh fine. I don’t _know_ him…” The ladies eyed him dubiously and Kurt relented. “But I know his brother.”

“Ooh, a brother. Is _he_ single?” Holly joked with a quirked eyebrow.

“Uh, no. Yes. Oh, I don’t know.” He shook his head again to clear his thoughts, and then took another sip of alcohol. “He’s not your type,” he clarified. “Um, not so tall and uh….just no.” Holly stared him down and eventually gave in.

“How dull.” She shrugged. “Time to dig up juicy gossip somewhere else. Toodaloo.”  She waggled her fingers at him and melted back into the crowd. Kurt breathed a sigh of relief, until he realized that Isabelle still had an intent look on her face.

“Anderson huh?” she said teasingly. “Would his brother be the mysterious and dashing _Blaine Anderson_ that you saw on Sunday?”

Kurt shifted on his feet uncomfortably and glanced over to Cooper’s group still laughing and talking. “Please, keep your voice down,” he asked, then drained the last of his drink and heaved a sigh. “Yes, he’s one and the same.”

She squealed and leaned in closer to whisper, “Okay,” she said carefully. “I take it you two were…once um… How should I put this? An item?” She guessed. Kurt took a big breath and braced himself for the worst kind of reaction but nothing came other than a comforting pat to the back. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she said with a broad smile.

“How-” Kurt cleared his throat. “How did you know?”

Isabelle smiled again. “Well, I’ve known Sebastian for a long time. He and my youngest brother were…close, like that. He, Sebastian that is, he doesn’t let many people get close to him and considering he gave you my name, well, I assumed that you and he share similar predilections.”

Kurt nodded in understanding. He hadn’t taken into account exactly how Sebastian knew Isabelle. In fact, in the rush of this week with being immersed in city life once more, Sebastian had almost faded from his thoughts altogether.

“So the question remains; what’s got both you and Cooper so upset?” Isabelle asked, and Kurt pondered exactly how much to say, deciding to focus only on his failed attempts at romance.

“It all started at the library. That’s where I met Blaine,” he began and continued to confide in her how he felt about Blaine but how he’d misinterpreted things before he’d left for Ohio. Kurt ended his story with Cooper’s confrontation, adding in exactly how confused he was about whether Blaine had received the phone message or not. “I know it sounds presumptuous,” Kurt said, “but I was hoping that I could pull off the surprise. Except, I didn’t count on the fact that he wouldn’t call back that afternoon.”

“Why not leave your own number? I don’t understand.”

“Because neither of us have telephones at home,” Kurt groaned. “I am such a failure at romance,” he lamented.

“I don’t trust anyone who hasn’t failed at least once,” Isabelle said in consolation. Kurt simply looked at her grimly.

“I just don’t know if I should just go over there tonight and get to him before Cooper does.”

Isabelle checked on Cooper and his friends once more. “I wouldn’t worry about that. He’s not going anywhere any time soon, and I doubt that he’s going to drive over there and tattle on you to his little brother.” She threaded her arm through Kurt’s and led him to a quieter corner. “Look, I think you should get a good night’s sleep. In the morning you’ll feel better and you can come up with a plan. Forget leaving him a message. Go and find him at the library. It’s where it all started, right?”

“Right,” Kurt confirmed. He thought back to the way Blaine had first looked at him when he’d walked through the patent office doors. Yes, that was it. Tomorrow he vowed to go to the patent office tomorrow and see Blaine for himself.

* * *

 

Blaine spun the knob on the typewriter to release the final sheet. He read it twice, looking for spelling mistakes and when he found none, he smiled with pride. Smoothing out the piece of paper, Blaine added it to the finished pile and leaned back in his chair, stretched his neck and laughed out loud. He’d managed to finish the manual before their morning beak on Thursday as he’d promised. There was time to do a final proofread before handing it over to the legal team.

A cup of coffee and two hours later, Blaine knocked on the door of his boss, pushing it open to stand in the doorway. “Mr. Crawford? Sir, I’ve finished the manual.” He produced a stack of typed pages in a folder and put it down on the desk. Adam flipped through a few [pages](http://www.uspto.gov/web/offices/pac/mpep/old/E0R0_100.pdf) to satisfy his curiosity, smiling at the thorough work.

“Blaine, my boy, you’ve done it!” Adam rubbed his hands together and leaned back in his chair. “Tell you what, you get this packaged up, and you and I will head down to Justice together to drop it off.”

“Oh-kay?” Blaine raised his eyebrows and wondered why his boss would want to take a subway ride with him.

“Oh yes, and I’ll take you out to lunch. My treat.”

“Ah! I see. Yes, of course. Uh, give me ten minutes.” Blaine collected the manual and took it back to his makeshift office, found the reels of brown paper and string and set about protecting it for travel. He snipped the last piece of twine and admired the well-wrapped parcel on the desk.

An hour later, the package had been safely delivered to the third floor at Chambers Street and Adam was on his third story about his twin ten year old sons as they left the subway station at Times Square.

“This looks the ticket,” Adam said and motioned across the intersection to Longchamps on the corner. “Yes?” He asked Blaine, who nodded enthusiastically. The upscale chain restaurant was one of twelve dotted around the inner city and was a favorite of Blaine’s for three reasons. Firstly, the prices were very reasonable and, as a result, Blaine and his family had dined at the closest Longchamps every year on his birthday since he was fourteen. Secondly, he considered their Savarin a La Mode to be his birthday cake. He could never get his fill of the dense rum-soaked baba cake, especially when served with French vanilla ice cream. The third reason Blaine was fond of the restaurants, was that each were decorated in elegant art deco décor. It made him feel as though he’d been transported through time and was living as a dandy in the twenties, which appealed to his often overlooked whimsical side. No birthday dinner was complete without himself and Cooper driving their parents mad with cheery British accents while they called each other ‘good chap’ and added an ‘I say’ to the other’s every remark.

He and Adam crossed the road and were directed to a table by the window. A demure waitress in a black and white striped dress and a tiny white apron quickly appeared to hand them a menu each and to take their drinks order.

“Ginger ale for me,” Blaine said with a friendly smile to the waitress.

“Nonsense.” Adam lowered his menu and promptly ordered two beers. “We’re celebrating, Mr. Anderson. It’s time to let your hair down,” he encouraged and Blaine looked around the late lunch crowd, unconsciously smoothing a hand along his slicked back hair. “Besides, I have a proposition for you, and it never hurts to have been buttered up beforehand,” Adam added. Blaine bit back a smile at the echo of Cooper’s voice in his head chipping in with a ‘Here, here.’

“If you feel the need to soften me up with alcohol, I fear your request is not an entirely agreeable one,” Blaine said genially.

“Poppycock. All my ideas are agreeable.” Adam smirked and went back to studying the menu. “New Orleans prawns…Hmm, what is Russian dressing?”

“It’s kinda like thousand island but with more bite,” Blaine explained and continued to mull over the meal options. “I think I’m going to have to go with the sizzling swordfish steak platter,” he said with finality as his stomach grumbled. He’d no sooner put down his menu when their waitress reappeared with their ales. Blaine placed his order for the fish but didn’t tack on his usual dessert order, unsure of the timetable this afternoon. Theoretically, he should be back out on the floor, sharing a desk with Hunter once more. However, Adam’s hint at a proposition piqued Blaine’s curiosity.

“I’ll have the calf’s liver and Bermuda potatoes,” Adam confirmed and handed over his menu to the waitress. “And keep the drinks coming please.”

“Aren’t we going back to the office?” Blaine asked.

“That depends, I suppose.”

“On?”

“Let’s get to that in a moment. Right now, I want to congratulate you, Blaine. You did a stupendous job putting all of that together, and I don’t want you to think for a minute that I haven’t noticed the extra hours you’ve been putting in at the office.” Blaine ducked his head guiltily. If he hadn’t been quite so lonely, he wouldn’t have done that. “It shows drive and determination and that says a lot about who you are as a person. So first things first, let’s toast to a job well done.” Adam held his glass aloft and waited for him to follow suit. Blaine took a small sip of beer, letting the bitterness of the hops assault his taste buds.

“Thank you, Mr. Crawford. Although there was a bit of a slog getting around some of the other offices, I took a lot of pleasure in getting the project finished.”

“Excellent. Which brings me to the next matter,” Adam took another swallow of his drink and placed the glass back on the table. “I believe you would make an excellent instructor. Uh uh. Hear me out, Mr. Anderson.” He held up his hand as Blaine tried to question him. “Hear me out. I believe the new officer applicants would benefit from your patience, wisdom and enthusiasm for the process. And, what’s more, I believe that you’re capable of being a leader in the office. So I put it to you, Blaine. How would you feel about taking on a managerial role? Initially, you would be heading up a new training program, one where your manual would be the backbone of information for those studying for the bar. You would design it, run it, and measure its success. You’d be involved in the hiring of someone to replace you at the front desk and you’ll need another to help you publish the information and to implement the program across the branches.”

“I… I don’t know what to say, Mr. Crawford,” Blaine said flabbergasted.

“Well, don’t say anything just yet. Let me give you the full picture. There are changes coming, Blaine, to our office. And my departure will be one of them.” Blaine’s mouth fell open and he put his glass down. “I know this comes as a shock to you, and you must keep this under your hat for the time being, but I’ve put in for a transfer which has recently been approved.”

“But when?”

“Not until the new year. But as I’ll be heading to Boston to oversee the office there, it will leave an opportunity that I expect you to take. I want you to be my replacement and this is me letting you know that you, my boy, are up to the task. I know you’re young but I have complete faith in your abilities, which is more than I can say for Hunter.”

“Adam,” he said softly, overwhelmed by appreciation he felt towards his boss. “Thank you for saying that, but I’m really going to miss having you around.”

“Not to worry,” Adam said with a playful wink. “You have a few more months to become tired of me.”

Blaine shook his head and smiled. “Never.”

“So, your thoughts?” Adam sat back and let the arriving waitress place his plate on the table. “Thank you, miss.” Blaine radded his thanks as his plate was also set down.

“I need to think about it,” he admitted. “I already miss the contact with the applicants and doing what you’re asking me to will remove me from that altogether. I’m not sure that I’m ready to give that up just yet.” Blaine took his knife and fork in hand and paused. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful. The offer does sound amazing but I’ll need some time to think about it.”

“That’s fine, Blaine. Take a few days but let me know on Monday.” Blaine nodded and let the conversation fall into a lull as they both started to eat.

“So, what takes you to Boston?” Blaine eventually asked.

“Marilyn - from the second floor.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“My wife and I are divorcing. She’s already taken the boys and gone to her sister’s in Cambridge.”

“Oh my god. I didn’t realize…” He trailed off helplessly.

“And here I thought office gossip was alive and kicking,” Adam said with a chuckle.

Lunch passed with the lengthy story of how Adam had met Marilyn months earlier after he’d separated from his wife, and how much he’d missed seeing his children since they’d moved away.

“So you see it makes sense for me to be close by – well, close enough for me to see them without being in their mother’s hair, or for her to be in mine.” Adam sighed and let the waitress clear his plate. “I just miss them so damn much.” He looked to Blaine and asked, “Have you ever felt that way?” Blaine hummed in agreement and his manager continued, “It’s simply awful.” Adam pulled out a cigarette packet from his jacket pocket and offered it to Blaine, who declined with a polite shake of his head, and then plucked one of the matchbooks from the bowl on the table. While Adam lit his smoke, Blaine considered the fantasy of pulling up stakes and moving to be closer to Kurt. He could imagine being greeted with that wide smile Kurt always had for him. His heart ached to see that smile again but the fantasy faded at the thought of leaving his other friends and family behind.

“But the crux of it is - I can’t leave without having someone I trust in my role. So you see my dilemma, Blaine.” He nodded along with Adam’s words. He understood how much Adam wanted to go, coupled with how much he wanted to leave the office in good hands - in _his_ hands. Blaine knew he would be up to the task. He just wasn’t sure whether he’d actually enjoy the new position as much as his job as an officer. “What’s on your mind?” Adam asked carefully.

Blaine swirled the dregs in his glass and tried to remember when he’d last done a full day behind his own desk, doing the job he’d aspired to for so long. But all he could think of was Kurt walking into their office for the first time. Poised, decked out in his finest, nervous; he’d been adorable, really. Blaine sighed, set his glass down and reached for Adam’s discarded matchbook. “I’m beginning to think that maybe my old job isn’t what I’m missing most.” He didn’t meet Adam’s gaze but waited for the questions that he’d have to find a way to answer without giving away too much of his personal life. However, Adam stayed silent and took another drag from his cigarette.

“You’re not in a hurry to get back, are you?” He asked hopefully and Blaine shrugged. There was always something to be done but being out of the office was a nice way to bookend the project he’d just finished. Adam waved down the waitress and ordered another two beers, then looked to a surprised Blaine. “Well then, we could sit here and drown our sorrows or we could celebrate our new beginnings, eh?”

“Okay,” Blaine said with a soft smile.

The next round of drinks began with another nod towards Adam’s offer of the promotion. “Just think, you’ll be management soon enough. You’ll be able to take your sweetheart out more often. Presuming you have one, of course.”

Blaine snorted and took a sip of his drink. “Nope. No sweetheart for _me_ ,” he said with more acid than he’d intended. The man he was in love with was busy living his fancy new life in a whole other state, and his former lover, Jerry, he’d run into at the television studio purely by chance, had mentioned that he was on the straight and narrow in the run-up to his wedding. The only other man that Blaine had a connection with was Sam, who was nothing more than a friend.

“Tsk. _That_ does not sound very celebratory.” Adam took one look at him and flagged down the waitress again. “This calls for whiskey,” he said with determination.

The first sip of Canadian Club burned as Blaine swallowed. “Uh, don’t we have to get back?” He rasped out.

“We’re taking the rest of the afternoon off,” Adam said with an easy smile. “Celebration, remember?”

“Oh, right,” Blaine said and tried to tamp down on his guilt for being away from the office for so long.

“Trust me, it’s fine. It’s just one afternoon,” Adam reassured him.

“I don’t think we can stay here though.” Blaine glanced around at the practically empty restaurant. The waitresses were busy wiping down tables and changing the bud vases for candlesticks.

“Just one more. For the road,” Adam explained as two more glasses were set down.

“For the road,” Blaine repeated, feeling flushed and a little dizzy. He focused on the building warmth in his chest thanks to the liquor and for a moment, pondered how long it had been since he’d indulged in a little stress relief at the Y.

“Oh you go to the Y too?” Blaine startled, wondering what exactly he’d said out loud. “Which one? On the west side?” Adam asked.

“Uh, no. Railroad….on 48th,” he replied hesitantly, hoping that his manager didn’t know of the Railroad’s reputation.

“Oh, that’s close by. Very handy,” Adam said with a sincere smile. “Maybe I’ll try it out. Has it got a sauna?” Blaine blinked hard to clear his head. He could feel a bead of sweat roll down past his sideburn and travel along his jaw.

“Yeah…”

“I just love working up a sweat. It feels good to get the blood pumping, doesn’t it?”

“Um…” Blaine looked at his boss slack-jawed.

“And if you were management,” Adam said in all seriousness as Blaine went wide-eyed, “You could afford to become a full member, old chap,” he said proudly, which sent Blaine off into a fit of giggles.

Adam closed the door of Blaine’s taxi outside the restaurant. He leaned down and gave Blaine some parting advice. “Go sleep it off,” he said with a grin. “See you tomorrow.”

Blaine laughed again and waved as the cab pulled away. He sat back and watched the rest of the block go by before he changed his mind.

“Railroad YMCA on 48th Street, please,” he called out to the driver, who nodded and dutifully turned left.

* * *

 

Kurt glumly walked out of the library and into the sweltering heat of the late afternoon. He let the passing pedestrians jostle him along the sidewalk until he spotted the park tucked behind the library, and turned off in the hopes of finding Blaine on his break. After having the misfortune of running into a harried and grumpy Hunter inside and then being snapped at that Blaine was out of the office on business, Kurt was feeling distinctly unnerved. He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked along the path around the perimeter of the park, looking out for Blaine’s profile but couldn’t spot him. He made his way back to the library’s rear steps and took a seat to figure out what to do next.

He’d been so optimistic of this being the perfect day. He’d met Hattie at her boutique and was taken on the promised tour of her workrooms above the shop, and then Kurt had met Isabelle and Pamela for long lunch at the Waldorf-Astoria. It had been his hope to arrive at Blaine’s office late in the afternoon and convince him to have dinner together. Except, without Blaine, there could be no invitation, and Kurt wasn’t about to trust Hunter with a personal message.

Frustration gnawed at him, setting off a tingling that flooded his body. His skin prickled with the same sort of nerves that he’d felt waiting for Sebastian to climb into bed with him. He jingled some loose change in his pants pocket and considered finding a pay phone to call Brody and take him up on his invitation of going back to the YMCA, but eventually decided against it. If he went there with Brody again, he’d feel the pressure to do something more than what he was comfortable with and, if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t want anyone other than Blaine to touch him in that way.

Kurt thought about all the ways he had and, yet, had not changed since his last visit to the establishment. He’d had more experience physically but he was still shy about intimacy. He’d had a dalliance with Sebastian but still yearned for so much more with Blaine. He’d become a bona fide inventor and sold a design with his name on it but still felt like he was a square peg in a round hole. He’d become more confident socially but was still second guessing himself in private.

It was time there was some more changes, he decided. If he had the courage to seek out Hattie this morning, then he should be able to go to such a club by himself. He knew what to expect there and, if he went alone, he wouldn’t have to interact with anyone unless he wanted to. He could simply take pleasure in watching others, and then once this particular itch has been scratched, he would call on Blaine at home later this evening. With his body loose and his mind relaxed, he’d be able to hear Blaine out without being on the verge of jumping him.

With the decision made, Kurt shot to his feet and set off quickly to find a cab. He stuck out his hand to hail one and hopped into the first yellow taxi to stop.

“Take me to East 48th Street please,” he said eagerly.

* * *

 

The locker room was empty as Blaine undressed clumsily. He supposed that was usual for this time of day. He couldn’t guess how many men would frequent such a place before the work day was over. After a brief struggle with his shoelaces, he decided on a shower to clear his head and rid himself of the slightly foggy feeling from the whiskey that Adam had insisted on earlier. Leaving his belongings in the locker, Blaine grabbed a towel and headed for the showers.

The white tiled shower room was empty. Blaine picked a spot on the opposite wall that had a half-height cubicle wall on one side and was open to three shower heads on the other. He tucked his towel up on the high shelf above the nozzle, then gave the taps a quick turn and stood under the warm spray with his eyes closed, letting it pound against the base of his skull.

Laughter from a couple of men carried through the doorway, and Blaine quickly found himself a neighbor to a pair of naked, horny, muscled men in their thirties a few cubicles over. The two men were of similar height, both tall with hairy chests. One had a flying fish tattoo wrapped around one bulging bicep and was deeply tanned, whereas the other was much fairer and freckled across his shoulders from the summer sun. Freckles, as Blaine decided to call him, had a mop of strawberry blond hair that had flopped over his forehead from the sprinkling showerhead. His partner, the sailor, was almost bald and what remained of his dark hair had been cropped very close to his scalp.

Blaine turned slightly under the spray of water and surreptitiously watched Freckles wrap the sailor in a tight embrace, their bodies pressed together as they kissed. He felt his body stir at the sight and smoothed his hand down along his stomach, following the crease of his thigh to rub alongside his sac. Happy not to be involved in the action, Blaine watched Freckle’s hands knead at his partner’s fleshy cheeks. He settled for teasing himself, wrapping his hand around his balls, squeezing, pulling, and rolling them between his fingers while his cock hardened. He scrubbed his free hand over his face, rubbing at his tired eyes and relishing the slide of the warm water as it streamed down his body.

With his eyes closed, his thoughts returned to Kurt. They often did when he touched himself in this way, but this time Blaine bit his lip in apprehension. The time had surely come where he was either going to do something to keep Kurt in his life or let him go. He couldn’t keep living in limbo like this. The distraction of throwing himself into his office project had worked for a time but that was over now and Blaine had to face facts: Kurt may never come back.

Blaine stumbled forward and put his hand against the tiled wall to brace himself. It was too much to contemplate; the idea was too big to think through in this place. A wave of weariness washed over him and he wished that he’d gone directly home to do this in his own shower so that he could have fallen straight into bed afterwards, but a well timed moan from Freckles reminded Blaine that he’d chosen to come here to get out of his own head for a little while. He needed to give himself some space to simply _be_ without worrying about the implications of the promotion that Adam had offered or of Kurt’s absence. Instead, he let himself pretend that Kurt was here, standing behind him, hands hovering over Blaine’s hips, breath hot against his neck.

He groaned quietly and finally took hold of his shaft, loosening and re-tightening around the base, letting his fantasy grow into Kurt touching him, teasing him. “Ohhh,” he sighed quietly as his stroking became more urgent.

* * *

 

Kurt pulled himself out of the pool and grabbed his towel, covering his nude body quickly. He was the only man under the age of fifty in the room and most of the older men had their trunks on. He slung the towel around his waist and, without bothering to dry himself off, he headed for the door in the hope that the sauna would prove to be more entertaining.

He stopped outside the wooden door and peered in through the tiny window to see if anyone was in there today and was pleased to see a handful of men watching another laid out along one of the benches. Kurt quietly slipped inside the warm room and took a seat on the lowest bench as the steam swamped him, sticking to his skin. 

The young man holding everyone’s attention lay bare along the wooden seat. His chestnut hair was damp and messy, like he’d been pulling at it and a white toweling belt from a robe had been wrapped around his head twice over, blindfolding him to the half dozen others in the room. He was tall and thin with one bony knee splayed outward, resting against the rear wall, and Kurt watched the stranger’s chest heave and wondered what had happened in the moments before he’d arrived. He shot a glance to the stranger’s crotch, checking quickly to see if the action was already over. It wasn’t. The stranger’s dick was unlike any he’d seen before; thick as his wrist but stubby. It stuck straight up in the air, swollen and bright red, wobbling with every deep breath the stranger took.

“My turn,” a grey haired guy said, moving to sit on the wooden bench below the stranger and lean in to suck him. The stranger groaned and his long fingers twitched against the seat as the old man slurped away noisily. Another man, a young blond, shifted to kiss the stranger while his fingers pinched at an already purpling nipple, making the man cry out into his mouth. Kurt watched with interest, the heel of his hand pressing down on his erection as it began to fill beneath his towel.

“Let me,” a petite guy with a baby face and dark hair said, and pulled at the stranger’s legs to shift them further apart so he could crawl in between. Kurt watched curiously as the small man stuck two fingers into his mouth and sucked vigorously before lowering them to the stranger and sliding them somewhere Kurt couldn’t see.

Kurt craned his neck wanting to know what has happening but another cry from the stranger pulled his gaze back to the blond, who had moved down to the stranger’s chest and was flicking his tongue over the erect nipple. Kurt’s own hand had slipped under the seam of his towel and found his dick. He tugged at it with tiny movements so as not to draw attention to himself. He watched the blond close his lips around the stranger’s inflamed nipple and draw down hard, forcing the stranger to arch up off the bench with another cry of pleasure. Kurt let out a breathy moan and squeezed himself tighter.

“Can you take another?” The baby faced guy asked the stranger and Kurt wondered exactly what he meant by that. He stretched upwards trying once more to see what was happening between the stranger’s legs. The towel around Kurt’s waist came loose and uncovered his hand still wrapped around his dick but Kurt’s attention was on the stranger.

“Oh, sweetheart…” A low moan of desire came from below Kurt and he twisted back towards the door to see who it had come from. A hand came to rest on Kurt’s thigh and there, crouching between his knees, was a good-looking middle-aged man with a graying buzz cut. “Let me give you a hand, sweetheart.”

Kurt startled, staring down at his exposed body in surprise. The older man’s dark brown eyes gazed at him hungrily, and slowly his both hands started to slide up Kurt’s legs.

“Show me, sweetheart. Show me how you like it,” he suggested. Kurt drew a sharp breath and held his dick infinitesimally closer to his body. The older man stopped and waited, looking up at Kurt with a grin. “S’okay, sweetheart. I won’t bite. Just wanna see you.” His hands stopped high up on Kurt’s thighs, and his thumbs pressed into the flesh, pulling at the skin there in suggestion. “Show me,” he requested again. “Stroke it. Up and down. Up and down.” The encouraging lilt of the old man’s rasping voice was hypnotic and Kurt found his hand obeying before he understood what was happening. “Very good, sweetheart. Good. Yes, like that.”

Kurt flushed at the encouragement but felt bolder and stroked himself more enthusiastically, pushing his heavy dick outward to show the older man. “That’s it,” his admirer moaned, “You like that, don’t you sweetheart?” Kurt nodded and shuddered with every sweep of his own hand. He closed his eyes and focused on the crackle of electricity humming beneath his skin. “That’s it. Mmm, so good sweetheart.” The old man let out a gust of breath that blew across the wet tip of Kurt’s cock and made Kurt grunt, his hips bucking ever so slightly. “C’mon….closer, sweetheart.” The old man’s hands moved to pull at Kurt’s hips, yanking him forward and Kurt’s eyes cracked open. “Let me taste it now. Right in here.” The older man dropped his mouth open and leaned in.

Kurt’s hand shot out and shoved at the older man, pushing him backwards hard enough to make him fall on his ass. “No.”

“What the hell?” The old guy grumbled from his spot on the floor.

Kurt gathered up his towel quickly and stood. “I- I’m sorry but I can’t- I can’t do that with you.” He stepped around the man and swept out the door in a hurry, purposefully not looking back. He rushed towards the locker room as his heart pounded in his throat. No one was supposed to touch him like that, no one but Blaine.

Still clutching at the towel bundled up in his hand; he pushed open the door to the locker room that was empty except for two tall, hairy men in one corner who were busy drying each other off with one [humming a song](http://letsfacethemusicanddancethefic.tumblr.com/post/102157498365/frank-sinatra-yours-is-my-heart-alone-1939) and the other stealing kisses.

Kurt made his way to his locker, slung the towel over his shoulder, and jiggled with the handle ineffectually, failing to get it open with his shaking hands. He sat heavily on the bench behind him, the wood cold on his backside, and dropped his head into his hands.

He focused on the humming coming from the other side of the locker room and took three deep fortifying breaths, wishing that there was someone to sing to _him_ so tenderly. Kurt fervently wished that Blaine was here. That was all he wanted. Just to see him. It didn’t matter that he was with someone else right now. It didn’t matter that they couldn’t be physical in the way that Kurt wanted because of someone else. He just wanted to see him, to be near him, to hear his voice.

“Ohhh, _Kurt_.”

Kurt’s head jerked upward at the tinny sound of his name. Was he hearing things? Was he so far gone that he’d conjured Blaine up in his head?

“ _Fuck_.” The sharp noise of the curse echoed around the walls.

Kurt was on his feet in a heartbeat. He knew that voice. His head whipped around looking for a clue and there, there it was in the steam billowing out of the shower room. Another guttural moan followed and Kurt raced towards it, his still hard dick waving about with every step.

He stopped in the entryway and sighed in relief. A choked whisper fell from his lips, “ _Blaine_.”

“ _Uh_.” A tiny whimper came from beneath showerhead and one of Blaine’s legs rose up on his toes.

“Blaine,” Kurt moaned longingly and watched his friend’s head snap upwards. His eyes swept over Blaine’s broad tanned shoulders, and then down the curve of his waist to pause at his pert plump cheeks, watching the muscles shift beneath his skin as Blaine stopped stroking himself. The steam from the shower drenched Kurt in wave after wave of lust. He ached to move, to go to Blaine but he held himself back.

“Kurt?” Blaine quietly asked the wet white tiled wall. “ _Kurt_?” He whispered brokenly and shook his head.

The melancholy in Blaine’s voice ripped Kurt’s sense of propriety away and he strode across the room, twisted Blaine around by the shoulders to look him in the eye. “I’m _here_ , my darling. I’m -” His words fell away as Blaine launched himself at Kurt, throwing his arms around him to pull him in tight.

Blaine’s wet body pressed against his and Kurt threw all caution to the wind, hugging back just as hard, forcing Blaine to step back and take them both under the shower’s spray. Kurt giggled as warm water trickled through his floppy hair and dripped down the back of his neck but he sobered up quickly as Blaine let out an anguished sob against his throat. “I’m here, I’m here,” he repeated and cradled the back of Blaine’s head. As his friend got his breathing back under control, Kurt became aware of Blaine’s erection pressed into his hip while his own was sandwiched against Blaine’s stomach. He pulled back a little, hoping that he wasn’t making things awkward for his friend, but Blaine resisted with a small mewl and kept him locked in his arms.

“ _You’re back_ ,” Blaine said quietly, his lips moving against Kurt’s throat. He sounded so relieved that Kurt had to repeat his words.

“I’m back,” he agreed. “Back for good.” Kurt gusted out a tiny moan as Blaine cinched his arms around him more securely. Blaine’s lips parted against his neck and he simply seemed happy to breathe Kurt in before finally moving, stretching upward to rest his cheek against Kurt’s jaw.

“I love you,” Blaine breathed out and Kurt gasped. “I love you and I missed you and I never want to be without you again.”

“What are you saying?” Kurt struggled to both get some space between them and to understand how Blaine could throw off his current partner so easily.

Blaine fixed his molten gold eyes on Kurt and took a steadying breath as he took Kurt’s hands in his. “Kurt, there is a moment when you say to yourself, ‘Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking for you forever.’ Having you back, here in my arms…this is that moment for me. About you. You move me, Kurt. And I want to spend every moment being with you, and loving you.” Blaine’s shining eyes dropped to Kurt’s lips and he leaned in with his eyelashes fluttering shut.

Kurt’s mind churned with doubt. Could he be this person, and break up a relationship? Or would he have to suffice in sharing Blaine with another? Could he set aside the jealousy that was already starting to smolder at the very idea of Blaine being with anyone but him?

“Blaine,” Kurt murmured and waited as his friend’s eyes opened warily. “I love you too…” He said simply, smiling when Blaine broke into a dopey grin at his confession. “But I-I have to know,” he said gently as Blaine’s expression changed to one of confusion. “Is- Is it just me you love? What about your blond boyfriend?”

“Who?” Blaine said groggily, looking completely mystified.

“With the curls? The one who s-sucked you. Here. That night.”

“Jerry?” Blaine asked incredulously. “No, Kurt. Jerry isn’t my …anything. For one, he’s engaged and for another, I’ve never wanted any commitment from him. And for a third…” He sighed wistfully. “No one could ever compete with you, Kurt.”

“Do you mean…?”

“It’s you. It’s always been you,” Blaine confirmed and Kurt sucked in a big breath as his knees went weak and his stomach fluttered.

“Kiss me,” he pleaded and hooked his arms around Blaine’s neck. “Please, kiss me,” he begged. Blaine gazed at him adoringly for a moment and then cupped Kurt’s face in his hands. Kurt’s eyes fell shut and he waited for what felt like an eternity for the warm press of lips against his. He hummed as Blaine held him steady, tilting his head incrementally to deepen the kiss as their lips moved against each other. Blaine shifted his weight as if to pull back but Kurt wouldn’t let him, whining in the back of his throat and taking a half step forward to press their bodies together. Blaine’s lips parted and kissed him more deeply, and Kurt followed his example, opening himself up to taste the man he loved. Their tongues touched and Blaine moaned into his mouth, leaning against Kurt as he shifted his hands, dropping them to Kurt’s hips.

Kurt sucked in Blaine’s lower lip and ground against Blaine’s hard-on, subtly swiveling his hips. He smiled when Blaine reacted with a gasp, breaking their first kiss. “Come back,” he murmured and chased Blaine’s mouth. He twisted his body again, his erection brushing against Blaine’s and, shivering with anticipation, he quickly pressed in for another kiss.

Blaine’s hands flew to Kurt’s elbows and pulled at them, trying to step out of the embrace. “Not here,” he breathed out. Blaine looked to the empty doorway and grimaced. “You deserve better than here.” 

Kurt tangled his fingers with Blaine’s and brought them to his lips to kiss each one.

“I don’t care where, as long as it’s with you.” Blaine stared at him in amazement for a moment then lurched forward and swept Kurt back into his arms, kissing him hard. Kurt sucked in breath after heaving breath through his nose as their insistent kisses turned messy, tongues dragging together, desperate to be closer. Kurt couldn’t believe this was happening. It was everything he’d wanted.

Blaine’s warm pliant body molded to his and with every roll of his hips, Kurt whimpered. His cock rubbed against Blaine’s slippery stomach and he lost himself to the wondrous sensation. His mouth hung open, doing little other than panting as Blaine’s tongue darted in and out. He grasped at Blaine’s short black hair, fingernails scratching against the nape of his neck, trying to keep himself up on his trembling legs. He groaned when Blaine’s hands found his ass, gripping each cheek and somehow dragging him closer.

“Blaine…” he gulped in a breath. “Blaineblaineblaine,” he chanted and buried his head against Blaine’s neck as he thrust harder. Their cocks slid alongside each other, then over top and across the base. It was maddening and heady and Kurt couldn’t get enough. He squeezed Blaine to him, arching into him, wanting to feel every inch of him, closer, harder.

“Oh my god,” Blaine panted out and then grunted as his thrusting changed to short and sharp snaps of his hips. “Oh, god. Love you, love you. Uh!” He held Kurt close as he came in a gush between them and stilled, out of breath.

Kurt whined. He rolled his hips against Blaine and put his mouth to Blaine’s neck, teeth pressing hard enough to leave a row of indentations in his skin.  Blaine took the hint and squeezed Kurt’s ass cheeks, pulling them apart, keeping their bodies pressed together as Kurt worked his cock against him, faster and faster. One of Blaine’s hands shifted, sliding down the cleft of Kurt’s ass, fingers brushing across his hole, rubbing over and over it. Kurt’s soft grunts became a gasping cry as he came. He curled in on himself and then jerked against Blaine helplessly with every spurt.

When the ringing in his ears subsided, Kurt was nestled in Blaine’s arms. The water was off and the room was silent apart from their heavy breathing.

“I didn’t dream this,” Kurt said contentedly. He sighed and took stock of his exhausted body, surprised he was still on his feet and hugged Blaine a little tighter.

Blaine chuckled. “God, I hope not.”

“Take me home, please?”

“Okay.”

* * *

 

They had decided to nap before catching up, but being in such close proximity to one another made resting impossible and their lips found each other’s again and again.

Lying stretched out and fully clothed on Kurt’s single bed, Blaine’s stomach rumbled loudly and Kurt giggled into their umpteenth kiss.  Smiling, Blaine shifted his hand from Kurt’s jaw and tucked it under his own head.

“Guess this means I have to feed you,” Kurt quipped and nuzzled against Blaine’s jaw.

Blaine hummed happily. “With lips as sweet as these? I’m on a dessert only diet.” He kissed Kurt’s upturned mouth lightly and wormed his other hand beneath the back of Kurt’s wrinkled shirt to find skin.

“That’s probably a good thing, considering there’s barely any food in the cupboards.” Blaine’s eyes roamed over Kurt’s face, searching for hesitation but found only joy sparkling in his bright blue eyes.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he said and sighed with contentment as Kurt snuggled against him, burying his face into the crook of his neck and hooking a leg over his.

Blaine’s thumb resumed stroking lazily along the dip in Kurt’s back as he gathered his thoughts.  This day hadn’t turned out anything like he’d expected when he got up this morning. Kurt was here. In his arms. Telling him that he loved him. Kissing him. Being both adorable and utterly gorgeous. But there was one thing that struck him as odd.

“How did you know I’d be at the Y? I haven’t been there in months.” Kurt stilled against him and popped his head up looking guilty.

“Truth time,” Kurt said and braced himself. “I- I didn’t know.” He pulled himself up to a sitting position and partially leaned over Blaine, letting his fingers fiddle with the buttons of Blaine’s shirt. “I got back on Sunday and I wanted to see you right away but I got roped into going out to dinner and then…and then I _did_ see you at the T.V. show-”

“What? But why didn’t you-?” Kurt pulled away and sat up properly, criss-crossing his legs.

“Because I saw you with Jerry and I thought…I thought you two were...” Kurt trailed off and hung his head as he toyed with the hem of his pants. “I didn’t know if you wanted to see me and I certainly didn’t want to make small talk with _him_.”

“Oh, Kurt. Of course I wanted to see you.” Blaine’s hand gathered up Kurt’s and squeezed it reassuringly. “Ever since your last letter…” He shut his eyes and took a deep breath to stay calm. “It worried me, you know. You made it sound as though you weren’t coming back, so for the past two weeks I’ve been debating whether or not to go and see you, and convince you to come home.”

“You were?” Blaine opened his eyes at Kurt’s wholly surprised tone and gazed at him, taking in his rumpled hair and swollen lips. His heart thumped with affection.

“Of course I was,” he admitted easily before sitting up and matching Kurt’s pose so their knees knocked against each other’s. “Okay, uh, truth time.” Blaine’s felt his face flush at the prospect of confessing his fears to Kurt. “I thought that maybe Sebastian had turned your head and that’s why you weren’t coming back.”

Kurt’s eyes dropped back to their knees. “I…thought about it but…then I realized that it was never about him. It was _always_ about you. It was you I wanted to be with.” He glanced up and caught Blaine’s serious gaze.

“I meant what I said earlier. I love you, Kurt.”

Kurt sucked in his bottom lip and bit back a grin. “I love you too. So much.”

Blaine grinned back. “Tell me again?” He asked, looking coy.

“You are wonderfully, ridiculously in love with me,” Kurt said, chuckling as Blaine immediately straightened up and looked put out. “Okay, fine.” He rolled his eyes playfully. “I am so in love with you, Blaine Anderson, that I can’t even think straight.”

Blaine let slip a whoop of delight and tackled Kurt, pulling him back on the bed as they both laughed into another kiss.

* * *

 


End file.
